Angel of Mercy
by Attention Deficit
Summary: After an attempt at suicide Draco Malfoy is sent to Aspen Springs A Psychiatry Hospital where he meets his rival Harry Potter. And everything gets twisted. DM/HP
1. Prelude: The Thread

**Prelude: The Thread**

He walks through the building, moving swiftly. Careful to dodge the flying papers, he heads for the desks of his fellow employees. Life working at the ministry. He doesn't really like the job. But he needs the money. He has children you see, and a beautiful wife. A wife he adores above all the rest. He knows it seems odd to have only one true love, when so many people go through at least two of them, but he swears she is his only. He would never love again if she were to die, before him. So he does this crappy job for her. He gets paid for her. And he makes sure he's home on time for her. Just to see her shinning eyes smiling up at him as she tells him about her day.

Normally she tells happy stories, but lately they are filled with worry. She is losing someone. He can see that. He knows who it is too, but he doesn't want to believe it. This person can't be slipping away. He won't allow it. On some level he realizes that it is happening. But he believes he can fight it. They can fight it. Her and Him together forever, fighting for what is right, just like it used to be. But now they are fighting for the person they both love so much. And they will win. They will get him back. He hopes so. It pains him greatly to even think about losing this person. So he doesn't. He goes to work, gets paid and comes home to her.

He just so happens to be thinking of her as he makes his way to the office. Ready and prepared for another day of work. Another day for her. But upon passing a close door he hears a noise. A noise like a body dropping to the floor. He knocks on the closed office door but hears no noise. He opens the door.

His first reaction is complete surprise. A grown man, with platinum blonde hair, is on the floor. Shinning red liquid is pouring out from his wrists. His porcelain skin is being stained by the deep rich colour. A beautiful colour, he remembers later, a deep, rich, metallic, stunning colour. It attracts his gaze for a moment and he is swept away by complete sadness. He feels it radiate around the room. He feels it rise up from the man on the floor and soak up to his own body. For a moment in time he feels the pain, the depression, the self-loathing, the overpowering sadness this man feels. It blows him away. He has never felt such strong negative feelings and, therefore can never start to understand them. But for a moment in time, he feels as if he has lived right next to the man on the floor. He feels as if he has been there through his whole life. Like he hadn't missed one single moment of it.

But he awakes from the feeling of understanding as the man's eye's slide shut. He stumbles forward and summons two cloths, one for each wrist. He ties one tightly around the left wrist, for it is not bleeding as badly as the other. He holds the cloth tightly to the scarred wrist. He then sends for help with his patronus, hoping that help will come soon. He can't lose anyone else this way. He won't allow it.

Luckily, helps arrives quickly, and the man on the floor is quickly rushed off to St. Mungo's Hospital. They tell him it will be okay, but he can't seem to find the use of his legs, arms or mouth. Is that what the person he cares so for so much was like? Was the same pain orbiting around the room when that person to tried to end it, too? Did they both think that no one cared? Because he cared, he cared for both. On different levels of course, but he did care.

Eventually, he was able to tell the people around him that he was fine. And if they would just leave him alone for a moment to collect himself, he would be fine. So the people left the office and left the door open a little bit.

He stood up, shaking only a little. He moved towards the desk. It had few papers scattered atop it. Most of them about the project that the man was working on. But underneath all of these was a poem.

A poem that, when he read it, filled him with an overpowering sense of calm sadness. A felling unlike anything he had ever felt before. With the power of this emotion and this poem, he cried. He cried for the first time since hearing the news of what his best friend had tried to do.

_**The Thread**_

_Wish  
you could turn off  
the questions, turn  
off the voices,  
and turn off all sound._

_Yearn  
to close out  
the ugliness, close  
out the filthiness,  
close out all light._

_Long  
to cast away  
yesterday, cast  
away memory,  
cast away all jeopardy._

_Pray  
you could somehow stop  
the uncertainty, somehow  
stop the loathing,  
and somehow stop the pain._

_Act_

_on your impulses,  
swallow the bottle,  
cut a little deeper,  
put the gun to your chest._

* * *

This is not in Draco's point of view. The rest of the story will be. Except for two others.  
I am also aware that Draco is a wizard and would not have used or even thought of a gun. Put that poem is the reason I wrote this. Thanks to Ellen Hopkins for writing this poem.

I am not an expert on depression or suicide. I don't know everything. What I do know is from my readings, or knowledge I have gained from battling depression for the last three years.

I apologize if this story offends you or hurts you in anyway. Know that I don't want to hurt you and I love you even if I don't know you or say I hate you.

**Always know someone out there loves you and if you feel like committing the big S. don't. Talk to someone. Somebody will care. **

-Laura  
-Attention Deficit.


	2. Desperate and Hardened

**Desperate and Hardened**

To be a Malfoy, you think would include being precise, on time, exact, the closest thing to perfect as humanly possible. But no, not this Malfoy. This Malfoy tried to do a simple act and failed.

I mean it really couldn't have been that hard. The mental strain wasn't as much as everyone said it would be. I said goodbye to my uncaring parents in a letter that I left them on my bed next to my box of photographs. The photographs of my life, okay so there are twenty pictures, and most of them are only of the life I wanted. A few pictures of a perfect family, a few pictures of some people laughing, and then one picture of the golden trio. I know it sounds strange, Draco Malfoy ten years past the war and I still want close friends, and to make the golden trio the silver four. Doesn't that just have the prettiest ring to it? Me in a group. A group that truly cares and not just protects because your father said so. I relish in the dream of it. And yes that is all it is, a dream. Nothing more, nothing less.

So now, because I can't be a perfect Malfoy, I am stuck in this God-awful place. Aspen Springs; a Psychiatry Hospital, in the Redwood room. Since giving it a pretty name makes it so much better.

So I slit my wrists. Big deal! I mean no one really cares. My parents haven't even tried to see me. They are probably too busy telling the media that someone tried to murder me and I only went to a Psychiatry hospital because of what I saw. Sounds just like them. Uncaring bastards. And my friends. What friends?! I am twenty-seven years old and the best kind of "friend" I can get is someone who will suck me off whenever I want. Of course they want something in return, money normally. Oh the joys of being a young, hot, rich bachelor. I mean I have girls flinging themselves at me. Doesn't anyone realize I don't want girls? I want boys. I am homosexual, gay, a fairy, a faggot, a man-loving, dick-eating guy. About one girl knows that. She was my best friend in Hogwarts. And she died.

So she didn't die literally but she is dead to me. She left me at the manor that night.

NO. I am not going back there. That night can stay hidden. I don't care. No fucking way. It's buried. It's dead. It was almost eleven years ago. It's time I moved on.

_"How do you plan not to share it when you are in a psychiatric hospital because of it?"_ The part against me thinks.

You know what self, I don't like you. I know that's obvious because I wouldn't be in here otherwise but I don't. I really don't. You're just so annoying. You always have to point out what is wrong. You fucking perfectionist. If I wasn't stuck to you, I would leave you.

_"You tried. You failed. Remember? No? Look down at your arm_."

And stupidly following myself I do. And I find a long bandage covering my entire right wrist. My left wrist is bandaged too but not as much as my right. For you see as I was cutting my left one, I slipped and fell. Of course the sound of the crash called attention to me, and someone came in the door and pressed a cloth to my wrist. I have no idea who it was. Someone tall, that's all I know. I passed out before I could see more. I woke up at St. Mungo's though, to see a doctor standing above me healing my arm. And then again to be told I was going to Aspen Springs. I didn't see anyone else until I walked into this room and by then I was too high on magical mood enhancers, also known as medication, to remember what happened.

My new best friend is magical mood enhancers. With a bit of magic every person in every room gets their medication on time and delivered effectively. The people can also not refuse not to take it since it is magic but I personally do not like to have someone else control the mood I am in. The spell is known supposedly only by the psychiatrists or mind healers but I still don't trust it. If they can control my mood and my free will with a bit of magic, what else about me can they control?

Besides the meds being delivered by magic, they are the best thing in my life. They are my best friend. So maybe it's the only best friend I have ever had but you know what I tried to have a best friend seventeen ago. It clearly failed if I have only have Prozac now. Oh well life sucks, and then you die, except for me. I don't die. Other people would be happy to not be able to die. But fuck I want to die. I want to. I want to. FUCKING KILL ME.

Okay. Brains back under control again. We are great. Yes 'we' because there are two of me, the side that says die and the side that says Medication?

Welcome to my pathetic existence. It sucks to in my thoughts doesn't it? How do you think I feel?! Drug addict on one side and suicidal maniac on the other, isn't life grand?

No. It's not. It sucks and then you die. Remember? I swear I just thought this.

Uh-oh. There's a man at my door. Oh crap now he's coming in my door.

"Hello Draco, how are you today?"

Hmm. I don't know. I tried to kill myself and failed. How do you think I am?!

But I don't say that. I just shrug.

"Well I am Derek and you're due for an appointment with Healer Granger-Weasley."

My ears perk up but my face stays neutral. What the hell do they mean Granger works here? I'm not speaking to her. I refuse, I refuse, I REFUSE. Too fucking bad.

Derek leaves after making sure I am comfortable and not trying to kill myself. Though they have wards to tell when people are harming themselves. But it's alright that I am being watched because I have medication. What good be sweeter?

I don't know. Maybe love? You know how that feels, right? Someone's arms around you and you feel the weight of the world fall off your shoulders. You know how that feels, right? No, you don't. You have no fucking clue how it feels.

If I could cry right now, I would. But I can't so fuck it. It isn't my fault my parents never hugged me like that, and anyone I dated or fucked was only there for the money or the sex.

Well now I'm feeling pathetic and the Prozac isn't working fast enough. Sharp objects? Anyone? Sharp objects? No? I thought not. It doesn't matter anyway. They are watching me right now. They'd have to run quickly if I took my head out on the white wall or the white bed post or the white chair. God with all this white you think they would like some red. It is a beautiful colour.

I know what I just said. But haven't you already realized I wanted to be a Gryffindor? Come on brain keep up with me or not. Truly it makes no difference. We will both be dead soon enough. I'm going to sleep now, Mr. Brain. So fuck off, I really can't take your ramblings about what I want. Goodnight.

"Draco? Draco, wake up you're going to see Healer Granger now."

What a lovely thing to wake up to, bad news. So I nod and get up. Time to face reality. What fun! Kill me.

Derek leads me down a very long corridor where I can hear weirdoes from some rooms cry out and others are so silent it's scary.

Derek stops and points to a door with a plaque on it that says "Healer Granger" and I can imagine the amount of pride she feels when she sees that. Personally, it makes me sick. Well, the only reason I am sick is because I'm going to have to spill out my guts out to someone I have pretended to hate for most of my life.

So I open the door to find a tall, slim Granger. She looks professional, prepared and kind of hot for a chick. At least a lot better then she used too.

"Hello Draco, please take a seat."

I sit in the chair with the grace of a Malfoy. Though after this I believe I won't be one anymore.

"It has been awhile, Draco. I haven't seen you in about ten years. How have you been doing?"

Though her face doesn't show it, her eyes are cringing at asking a stupid question. I stare at her making her feel the idiocy of her question.

"I don't know, Granger, I failed at killing myself how do you think I am?"

"Well then, it seems you are still as sarcastic as ever. Do you have anything you want to talk about?"

Why does she even bother asking? No I have nothing because I don't want to talk to you. What an idiotic question. So I shrug.

"Well, what about me, can I talk?"

I nod. If she wants to she can do anything. But I can't.

"Well, Ron and I got married eight years ago and we have two children, Riley and Elloise. They like to get in trouble… "

Wow. Who knew that Granger would blush all over her kids? Strange.

"…Ron and I use to hang out with Harry but now that he is in this place…"

WHAT? Mask back on. Oh fuck she saw.

"Does that surprise you? It didn't find it surprising at all. He was always quiet and shy. He never wanted attention and when he got so much of it, it hurt him, the sneers and newspapers and the taunts have damaged his self-confidence and made him really insecure. The last time I saw Harry, he didn't say much besides "yes" and "no" and he didn't want to play with the kids. Which is what freaked me out the most, Harry loves kids but he wouldn't go near them. A few weeks after that his house elf, Plinky, fire-called us to say Harry was not moving. And we rushed over to find him lying on the bathroom floor with an empty pill bottle next to him. Nothing was as terrifying as that moment, I mean absolutely _nothing."_

"Well that's all our time for today, Mr. Malfoy, I'll see you tomorrow. Maybe you'll be up to talking then?"

I get up and walk back to my room in a daze. If the saviour of our generation tries to kill himself, then what is going to happen to the rest of us? We are so screwed.

* * *

This is suppose to be inside Draco's mind and he is talking to himself. Everyone talks to themselves, though I am not sure if everyone fights with themselves this often.

Please Review

**_Always know someone out there loves you and if you feel like committing the big S. Don't. Talk to someone. Somebody will care. _**

_-Laura  
-Attention Deficit._


	3. Why Can't You Finish What You Started?

**Why Can't You Finish What You Started?  
**

Who knew by listening to Granger talk I have earned Stage one? Weird. I'm guessing the slip of my mask is what caused it, but what do I know? Who would have know to get out of here you have to go through five stages? I don't know what they are. But eventually during your stages you have to spend a little time at your family's house. Joy, Joy of Joys. That must be love from the support staff at Aspen Springs where everyone here is fucking crazy.

Anyway, I'm walking down the corridor; follow the yellow paint line to the dining room. I push open the white doors (don't people know all this white is getting old?) and see a line of people heading towards something that looks like a lunch line in a homeless shelter.

There are people from twenty to forty years old. It looks as though some of them are almost a hundred but there isn't that strong of a magical pull from anyone. I would love to know the exact age numbers but I would need my wand and they took that away. Wow, that's the first time I have actually missed it, strange.

I slowly make my way through the line. I feel really alone in this room. The girls sit on one side and the boys on the other. There are four guards watching over everyone. They wear bright blue robes and their wands are all drawn and ready for anything. Lovely. People go fucking crazy and attack each other here. Yippee. If I get hit somewhere I hope it kills me.

The lunch lady from hobo jungle gives me a sickly looking sandwich with way too much mayo and too little ham and cheese. She also gives me a carton of milk and two oatmeal cookies. I already miss hell - I mean, home.

I walk towards the very back table on the men's side and find it already has one occupant. I sit down anyway and play with my sandwich.

"Don't you know you're not supposed to play with your food?" says my table buddy.

"Don't you know this isn't real food it's just transformed waste between bread?" I reply. I look up to see his lips twist upward a tiny inch, but his eyes remain flat. Directly above them is a lightening scar.

My shoulders slump. Oh fuck it's Potter.

"Hello, Malfoy. Did someone finally break you? I know I tried enough at that and failed. There's another thing to add to my list of why I'm a failure. Or did you fail to break yourself?"

Potter's voice is dull and lifeless. He seems dead, a talking Inferus.

"Oh don't you worry about it, Potter. You definitely helped in breaking me but I also helped that a lot to so… oh well you tried. But next time Potter could you just end me yourself?"

Potter looks up. Probably from the "kill me" comment. People normally freak out when that is said.

"When did I attempt to kill you?"

"Ah, innocent Potter. The first time you tried to kill me was in Myrtle's bathroom. I believe you tried to bleed me dry. That was about the time that everything went… bang. "

I ended it in a whisper. Maybe he'll be angry. I wouldn't mind being pummeled and maybe cut, maybe blood, maybe….maybe….maybe.

"I never meant to kill you. I didn't even know what the spell did."

"Don't worry about it Potter. You didn't really kill me. You just really helped my year's later need for blood. No harm done."

Potter's eyes are still lifeless. He shrugs as if he doesn't know what to feel or do. As if he's broken inside. I wonder if Potter is just a shell with some conscious thought and maybe a huge load of guilt. Wow. I could so be a psychiatrist.

"Since when? Your incompetent and that's only a guess." I think.

"Shut up."

Oh shit I said that out loud.

"Who are you talking to?" my dear lunch buddy asks. Lie or tell the truth?

"Myself. For you see I am fucking crazy and if trying to off myself doesn't prove it then nothing does."

"That doesn't make you crazy. But you really did try the big S? I didn't know Malfoys could fail at something so easy. "

"Well I wouldn't have if someone didn't hear me fall and come to see if I was alright. Couldn't just let me bleed to death in peace. Like it would have been so fucking hard."

Calm down. Breath. Don't you dare let him know the intensity of your wish to die. Okay good.

"I know how you feel. If they hadn't come into my room for another twenty minutes I'd be dead right now instead of here. "

"You mean your bathroom, right?"

"Yeah…. How the hell do you know that? Where did you read my story? From some trashy magazine, or in the Daily Prophet?"

Oh fuck. Wait he doesn't sound pissed. Actually he still sounds dead. Oh well I'll tell the truth then.

"Granger told me. She's my psychiatrist. Horrible I know. Dealing with her to get out of here." I say trying to lighten things up a bit.

"So she's telling things about me to people that have never even known me. "

"Potter-"

_"Lunch is over please return to you rooms." _

A voice says and Potter gets up and leaves before I can say anything to him.

It would seem I've screwed up what he thought about his friends. Wait, why didn't he call them his friends? What the hell happened to their friendship?

I arrive back at my room and I am more confused than ever. The meds man comes again or so I call it. There's a swish of a wand and I feel the anti-depressant spell start to work in to my brain and there goes my thoughts…

* * *

A voice stirs me from a peaceful slumber.

"Mr. Malfoy, are you okay? We accidentally gave you the wrong dose of medicine."

I nod. Not truly coherent yet and feeling dizzy.

"We just want to inform you that parents come to visit tomorrow and you _have to_ visit them. THERE IS NO ONE TO SAVE YOU NOW," the voice yells at me and then an evil cackle starts up and in turns into at least fifteen people laughing at me. And suddenly they are in my room pointing and laughing at me.

I spring myself up off my bed. As I slowly realize I just dreamt that. And I'm not even a little bit woozy from the medication.

I hate dreaming. Nothing is more infuriating then finding out what they mean.

The part about my parents coming and the insane laughter is just a fear of facing them now. They going to say something like, you threw your life away, you're disowned, and it took us so much money to fix what you did to our name. And that's what it comes down to with those people. Money and the Malfoy name. Stupid load of garbage.  
But the overdose of drugs is confusing, it could mean I need to increase the medication I'm already getting or it could mean I need to choose a different way to escape from my crappy life. Trying to kill myself is not the right answer. Well clearly it isn't, Mr. Dream because I can't finish it.

The dizzy feeling means I am confused and unsure of what to do. It means I don't know what to choose.

Now calculate that together and tell me what the hell it means.  
To me it sounds like my logical side of my brain saying suicide is not the answer and there is something else that is an easier escape from my life. But could that be true? Is there really a better way out of this rut I'm in? And if so where is it?

* * *

Please Review

Attention Deficit


	4. Seeking A Momentary Fix

**Seeking A Momentary Fix **

I don't really want to keep living. It's boring me to keep this mundane life up. Have you ever been truly bored? I mean the true feeling. Not just restlessness, but when everything bores you and nothing satisfies the boredom. Ever felt like that? I don't think you have. The feeling seems to be attached to depression. Which is constantly reminding me that if I wasn't such a failure I wouldn't feel like this anymore. And the medicine they give can only keep me from feeling buried for only so long. It feels like there is a weight on my chest and it is pushing me farther and farther in to the ground and when you try to rise the weight becomes heavier. So I'm just going to stay down here for now, in my depression, thinking of everything that I have done wrong, or what people have said, or what has happened,

I'll make myself a list. A nice long list of why I am such a failure.

What I've done wrong:  
1. I am gay.  
2. I am not loved by anyone.  
3. I am not perfect like a Malfoy should be.  
4. I am nothing special.  
5. I have no talent.  
6. I have never had a date with someone who wasn't after my money or my body.  
7. I don't have true friends.  
8. I can't control the depression like I said I could.  
9. I can't please anyone.  
10. I fucking failed at killing myself.

What people have said:  
1. I'm a snob.  
2. I'm a bastard.  
3. I'm a bitch.  
4. I don't deserve to be a Malfoy.  
5. I don't deserve to live.  
6. I should have died at the end of the war.  
7. My mother should have had an abortion.  
8. Ferret.  
9. I am a fucking annoying little wimp who can't be a man.  
10. No one will ever love me.

What has happened:

1. Dumbledore's death.  
2. The war.  
3. Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.  
4. Failed Quidditch games.  
5. Granger breaking my nose.  
6. All the beatings.  
7. HIM inspecting me.  
8. Being the Death Eater play toy.  
9. The rape.  
10. Every single person I have seen die.

I told you I was a failure. Next time you should listen to me. Because stating all this stuff has stirred up memories and I can't help it. They are playing in my head. And the weight seems to be growing steadily. I brought this all on myself.

"DRACO! How could you dare disgrace me like that? You are a Malfoy! Not some Fucking Queer!"

My father's words from that night echo in my head. Making me spin in circles. I know I shouldn't listen to him. But I believe every word he says. And those words fall around me and pierce through me until I feel like piercing something through myself. That is when my dragon daggers come in handy. They are the best gifts I have ever gotten. I got them from my Godfather for my twelfth birthday. He gave them to me with potions in mind. I think I have only ever used them for potions three times. But they did make the best patterns on my skin. God, if Sev was still alive he would have been the one to save me from myself. He would have seen through my weak excuses on why I was drawn back and rarely came to visit, and why my arms were heavily glamoured. I miss him more than I thought I could ever miss anyone. Especially since the last year he was alive I thought he was out to steal my glory. The glory I never got anyway.

I am so pathetic. I just whine and whine and whine. Well fuck this. I'm just going to have a nap.

* * *

It's time to go to group.

Group. What a strange name for the coming together of six insane people and one person to watch over them.

Granger told me yesterday that since I seemed to not want to talk to her that she would send me to group.

So here I am putting my clothes on, white clothes of course isn't everything white? I don't understand why it is all white. Isn't this a place where people are supposed to become happier so would you not want to surround people with happy colours? Oh, who gives a fuck? Maybe I'll be dead before Group ends. Maybe some crazy fucker will break through these restraints they have on our magic and kill everyone in Group. I bet you if that happened everyone there would be happier to die.

I reach for my door handle and follow the blue line on the wall to the Group Room E. That's not a pretty name. I thought they were covering the ugliness of this building with ugly names. I guess not.

Upon walking in to Group Room E. I spot the other five crazy fuckers and the leader of this fun gang of fuckers. I sit in the only chair not occupied, the one closest to the door.

The leader introduces herself as Lesley. Leader Lesley. The rest of the groups goes around and states their names and why they're here. Gone-Grace, voices told her to try to poison the family. Banging-Ben, he is so addicted to heroin he held his boss hostage so someone would bring him some. Deflated-Danielle, extreme dose of depression. Jesus-Save-Me-Justin, he is addicted to cocaine and believes God will save him from everything. Dying-Draco, wants to die. And Pity-Me-Potter, suicide attempt got fucked up.

Leader Lesley says she wants everyone to say what their favourite thing is:  
Gone-Grace: Arsenic.  
Banging-Ben: Heroin.  
Deflated-Danielle: Black.  
Jesus-Save-Me-Justin: Cocaine, with God a close second.  
Dying-Draco: Dragon Daggers.  
Pity-Me-Potter: A full bottle of Sleeping Pills.

Leader Lesley then goes on to say that we now have to explain why they are our favourite things, this really is making people uncomfortable but Leader Lesley says it's to help people open up to each other since they will already know why we are here. I say this will make people feel odd talking about it with strangers.

Anyway the reasons are,  
Gone-Grace: To kill with.  
Banging-Ben: To get high with.  
Deflated-Danielle: To die in, with, and around.  
Jesus-Save-Me-Justin: To see God with.  
Dying-Draco: To bleed and die with.  
Pity-Me-Potter: To sleep forver with.

Leader Lesley says we all use these favourite things as a means of escape. Then when Deflated-Danielle says Black isn't a way to escape anything, Leader Lesley explains that Deflated-Danielle's need for black is truly a need to get away from other things turned in to a need for a dark colour. This confuses me. If we are all escaping from something why can't anyone do it without getting caught? When I say this, Leader Lesley says we all got caught because we wanted to. If we didn't want to get caught we wouldn't have. There were key things that everyone did to make sure they would get caught, maybe it would only small things like not saying hello to your co-workers in the morning or nervously tugging on your sleeve to make sure it was covering. But some people catch these small things and register them and catch you in the act. These people she says are our Guardians.

At Banging-Ben gets angry and shouts "You mean the fucking Auror was my Guardian? What bullshit. He had no right hauling me in to here because I was fucking up his team. He is a fucker, nothing more."

This riles up the group. Okay so it makes have off the group look at him with confused looks. And the other half continues to not pay attention to anything.

"I may not believe everything Ban-I mean Ben says," I start. "Most of us here have been invisible to everyone around us for awhile now. No matter how much we started out screaming and shouting take notice, take interest or take me with you. We now don't want any kind of attention. I would say all of us just want you to let us go back to our escapes." I look up from the hair that has been blocking my vision since I sat down and notice that most people seem to agree. Leader-Lesley doesn't of course and Gone-Grace isn't paying attention. But Deflated-Danielle appears to be nodding and so does Pity-Me-Potter.

I'm waiting for Leader Lesley to say I'm wrong but she stares at me for a few more seconds before looking at her watch and saying that it's time for us to go to our rooms. "But Draco, I can see how you think that. And all of you don't believe that I am never going to understand you. But I have been where you have been. I have used escape after escape until I ended up in a place like this too. I know what it is like."

"How can you know what it's like? You have no idea what we have all faced. You don't know what we have done, seen or experienced. You know what happened to you. You have no idea what happened to us." Pity-Me-Potter says in a flat voice.

"So let me know. Let someone know what happened. Let someone in. It's time, my companions, to let the walls fall down," Leader Lesley says as everyone exits.

And as I get back to my room, I can't help but think Pity-Me-Potter needs a new nick name.

* * *

Please Review

**_Always know someone out there loves you and if you feel like committing the big S. Don't. Talk to someone. Somebody will care. _**

_-Laura  
-Attention Deficit_


	5. All I Wanted To Do Has Fallen Apart Now

**All I Wanted To Do Has Fallen Apart Now**

So I am lying on my bed right now fighting back the memories of home life. I don't want to go home ever again. I don't want to see my parents anymore. But I know I'll have to see the route of my problems if I want to get out of here.

Which leads me to lying here with memories upon memories floating around in my head. Kind of like a wheel. Its spins and I'll watch this memory and then it spins again and I'll watch another. And of course right now I'm playing through the memories of the holidays at the manor.

Christmas has always been my least favourite time of the year. Everyone smiles at each other and people think this season is filled with joy but when all I want to do is crawl up in a ball and die, it sucks.

I didn't always hate Christmas. When I was young, maybe ten and younger, the season was filled with joy, laughter and surprise. My parents would always have a large party and it was always entertaining to talk to the other kids. But when the threat of Voldemort returned, everyone became morbid at those parties and nobody would be as joyous and hopeful anymore. Some people that were with Voldemort were happy but you could see the amount of liquor it took to make them happy.

The season was depressing from their on out. The last ten Christmases have been horrid. My father gets drunk and remembers times with Voldemort. My mother acts as though everything is fine and no one is pretending.

Then the abuse comes from my parents. The constant reminder that I am gay and I have to create a heir for the Malfoy fortunes and no gay man will share in the family riches. So my partner is screwed from the beginning because unless he is a hermaphrodite, that can get pregnant, they aren't going to be called a Malfoy or get any money.

And it always comes down to that, money. "Malfoy's are money, Son, and don't you dare forget it." That's one of my favourite things to say to me when he is drunk and breaks something.

So as I sit in the imaginary ball, over the holidays, where I am screaming and crying out for someone, anyone to come and pick up the pieces of Dying-Draco. Everyone dances around me: tip toe across the floor, and maybe I won't notice you there.

"Fuck you all .You stupid people that don't fucking care. Fuck you. I hope something hurts you as much as you have hurt me."

I yell out hoping someone will hear me and get me out of this room, this memory, this life: this mess. But as I continue to sit on my bed and wait for release from everything, no one comes. The only sound I hear is my own breathing.

And what a stupid sound it is! As if I ask for my stupid heart to beat and cause more pain then anything. And for my lungs to fill with air just to be released again. I can't ever hold on to anything, not sanity, love, friendship, a job, a house or air. The only thing I have is money and truthfully what is that getting me? I have nothing to hold on to, fight for, or believe in.

So why can't they just release me here so I can get out of this world. And go to what ever comes next, heaven, Hell, new life, nothing? I really don't care what it is as long as I'm away from here.

How pathetic! Fuck I hate myself. I sit and whine. Why the fuck was I born if I am such a let down? Why the hell did I ever have to be a guy? I should have been a fucking girl.

Then there would be no pressure on me. And I would have had other siblings. The Malfoys always give the family business to the first son, so I could be guy crazy in public and swoon like crazy over any hot guy in a magazine, without having to hide it.

What a perfect life I would have had. No pressure, no unwanted attention, and guys lusting after me. I would have been named something like Drayla and I would've thought I was named after Dracula, the famous vampire. I would wear crimson and my breasts would always be pushed up. I'd be one hot fucking girl.

But no, I have to have a fucking cock. No tits and only two holes to stick it in. I really don't think I can stand me much longer. I am my worst enemy.

I am not allowed to have a relationship. I mean a real one with love. I can have sex with men but truly I know love is for straight people. Why else would people be so against homosexual couples?

Think about it, straight people can walk up to each other in public and say I like you or I love you or marry me but homosexuals say anything or do anything and it's like that person is on fire. It's something like the person is burning and unaware of it, or they have something hideous growing on their face that they don't know about with the stares they get. It is unbelievably ridiculous how simple minded people today are.

If a straight couple wants to walk down the street holding hands well then that's so sweet, so loving, so absolutely perfect. But if two men want to walk down the streets holding hands, well that's just horrid, just wrong, just plain evil. See how I can't have a relationship. I can have sex though. Tons of sex enough sex to make me die in ecstasy. But it can never be more which means I have to find someone new all the time which is a waste of time.

There. I am useless and loveless and no good and a failure and better dead. Oh, and I have one talent.

Breathing.

* * *

Back to this God forsaken room. Where I am forced to eat and pretend I am not planning my death with each glance at the people around.

I am sure many of these people are doing the same thing.

I am sitting at the same table as Potter again. He still needs a new nickname. Pallid-Potter? Particular-Potter? Psychotic-Potter? Pathetic-Potter? Peculiar-Potter? Palatable-Potter?

WAIT WHAT!? Potter is not eatable. He is not. NO. UGH.

Oh fuck, no I'm picturing eating Potter and him moaning.

BATHROOM.

So I jump up. I try not to draw attention to myself as I walk calmly but quickly to the bathroom. I enter a stall and unzip my pants and again I think about Potter.

Potter moaning and thrusting as his dick was devoured. It doesn't take me long to climax. It never has when thinking about eating dick.

I wipe my self off with the toilet paper, flush the toilet, do up my pants, wash my hands and go back to the table.

The guards give me a funny look when I return but they don't say anything. I sit back down and pick up my plastic and very breakable fork and try to eat my meal.

"And why did you run off?" No-Nickname-Potter asks in a dead flat voice.

Should I see if I can get a rise out of him like I used to? Back when we were in school? Yes, I think I will.

"I had a lovely vision of eating someone." I say with a sneer. The Malfoy sneer was the best thing I got out of the family.

"And who is this someone?" Nameless-Potter asks.

"You." I whisper it.

"Oh." Potty-Head-Potter says flatly.

"Oh? All you can say is "oh". Come on, Potter where is the rise? Where's the passion, the fire, the hatred, the emotions? Why the hell are you a fucking eggshell? You're really pissing me off. Do something. Don't just sit there. So what if your life sucks. Why do you think we are all in here? Because are lives are the best fucking things to ever happen? HELL NO. Because we know what you're feeling. You have the weight of your world on your shoulders. I get it! I have the weight of my world on mine. But you can't just give up. Your Harry-Fucking-Potter, the fucking Boy-Who Wouldn't-Die, damn it. You are the savior of the fucking world. You destroyed Voldemort. After facing him for almost every year of your school life. You went through every body hating you to everybody wanting you and in the end you try to kill yourself? Why the fuck would you ever do such a thing? Don't you get it? People care about you. They fucking care. People don't care about three quarters of the people in here but they care about you so tell me why in hell you would want to die?" I say this to him in a voice that is low but commands attention. And even though the noise in the lunch hall is loud I know he heard every word.

He looks me in the eye for the first time and says. "But they don't care." The talking corpse is back. Dead to everything. Moving for the sake of motion. Eating for the sake of feeding. Breathing for the sake of a chest rising and falling. Pointless in every aspect of living. And yet he continues. If there wasn't a block on our magic he would have had his magic kill him I'm sure. But so would I.

I guess we aren't that different. We both want it to end and we probably are both counting down the days it will take till we can die. Great I'm just like my school rival. How pathetic.

There will be question upon question tomorrow when I go see Granger but for now all I can think, as I make my way back to my room is that Potter definitely has a new nickname.

Passive-Potter.

* * *

**_Please Review_**

**_Attention Deficit_**


	6. It's All My Fault Now

**It's All My Fault Now**

"Draco." Granger says as I step into her office. She sounds amused. Why isn't she pissed?

"I thought you might want to know that your out burst on Harry yesterday has made him walk out of his therapy session yesterday once your outburst was mentioned. We have never even seen him flinch. He normally just sits in his seat watching the clock or the ground." Granger smiles.

"So now that he has reacted to something, are you going to explain why you're in here?"

"You know why, I slit my wrists." I said shortly.

"But Draco I want to know why you did."

She pauses and waits for me to say something. She seems to be sitting exactly still as if she expects me to mumble it. As if I'll say anything.

"Draco…" She continues still trying to find an answer in my silence. "All I know about you so far is that you like raspberries more then strawberries, you don't like blue berries and that you are now comfortable enough in my presence to not keep your back straight. You need to tell me why you did it? What makes you feel so down?"

"Life does." I say simply, ending all leads she thought she might have had to me spilling my guts all over the floor.

"Do you want to know what I know about you, Granger?" I ask minutes later. I am too bored to keep this silence up and I hate the feeling of her eyes burning in to me.

She nods.

"I know your family and friends are more important then anything else in this world. I know that when you talk about them your eyes light up with hope. When you are expecting something you'll be as quiet as possible, barely breathing. When you are disappointed your hand goes limp as if it is dead like your hope. When you are nervous you say 'well' at the beginning of every sentence. And your eyes fill with pain, love and hope when you talk about Potter. You seem to be unable to believe anyone should be able to end their own life. It bothers you more then anything else to watch people give up."

"Well, that is very true. I do all of those things. That means I can add one more thing to the list of things I know about you. You are very observant." Her eyes twinkle with amusement. "You can go now Draco, our meeting can end in a good note for once. But I expect you to start sharing in two sessions from now. That's three days from now. Get your thoughts together."

And with that I was dismissed.

I got back to my room with confusion lightly floating in my brain. How did she know I was planning on spilling my guts soon? Is it because it's been a month? Or because I have become more relaxed around her?

I hate confusion. It's a numbing feeling. It freezes your brain, makes your thoughts collide and your body slow down. Tell me how anybody thinks under this condition.

I wish I could fall asleep until they had every question answered. Then there would be no confusion. I feel horrible now. I don't want her to know anything about me! And yet… I want her to know it all. I want to walk up to Potter and hug him and I want to spit on him. I want to go find my mother and tell her I forgive her and I also want to rip her heart out so she feels this pain. I don't remember this pain. When did it start? When will it end? Why did I really try to end it all? Did I really want out? Do I want out now? Has anything even changed? I don't think anything has changed. I'm trapped somewhere. But I feel a little different. Maybe because people have been kicking down my heart's door.

Oh my God, this hurts like hell. My head is numb and my heart hurts. It's not easy caving in. I hate giving in to the negative side of myself. I want him to die. I want that side gone. I want the bad memories to go away. But I slightly don't want the good to go away…

So then why did I try to end it? If I want the good memories instead of the bad why didn't I just go to a psychiatrist and get them to help me out?

"_Why, you ask? I know why__."_ My other side answers.

And I know it's telling the truth. I think it rarely lies. Maybe just over exaggerates.

But if I have one side over exaggerating and the other side concentrating on the want to die, where does that leave me? The real _me_. Not the pretender. But who is the real me. I have been wearing this mask for so long; the mask of the pretender. The liar who says everything is alright, that everything is grand, peachy, fucking-fabulous. When they really mean that the world is falling apart. I have been wearing this mask for so long and have forgotten who is underneath.

I guess it's time for discovery. Time to find the reasons behind the lies. Starting with what really happened the night I gave up my final hope on the world…

"DRACO! The Dark Lord is coming. And you know Lucius has failed him. He'll attack you. Oh, my poor nephew alone with no parents to protect him." My mad aunt Bellatrix called out.

Okay I'm done lifting my mask. Fuck this. No way. Fuck this. I will not be lead back into that time again. No. No. NO! You can't drag me back into there. It hurts, fuck it hurts. Sharp thing….. SHARP THING. And I found nothing. So I lower my mouth to my arm and bite down hard.

She laughed and walked away from me. Leaving me alone to find a space to hide. I guess she was doing me a favour really. She would have sold me out to the Dark Lord if she knew where I went. So I ran up the stairs and found Pansy Parkinson. She dragged me into a bedroom and locked the door then we hid in the closet.

Now I'm cooled down. Look what pain does for me. It is like a nervous tick thing. Some people scratch the back of their head, other people bite their lip but I hurt myself. I induce pain to minimize the bad thoughts. And they do stop. They do… for a while. Normally thirty minutes or so but then something else jumps back in to my mind and wipes away all happy thoughts I might have been feeling or any slightly positive thoughts at all. It rips it out. Then you feel like your drowning. Drowning in your own pool of sorrow. It is a pathetic feeling. Because you become helpless. And then when people start to smile at you and talk to you. You feel as if you can't rise up to their level of ground to do it back. You stay drowning while they use their life preserver. Some try to share their life preserver with you but then you both start to drown so they drop you back down. Back down to drowning. Drowning in the never ending ocean of sorrow, complete and utter sorrow. While you know that you are in this sorrow because of yourself. It's all my fault now.

I am not an expert on depression or suicide. I don't know everything. What I do know is from my readings, or knowledge I have gained from battling depression for the last three years.

I apologize if this story offends you or hurts you in anyway. Know that I don't want to hurt you and I love you even if I don't know you or say I hate you.

Always know someone out there loves you and if you feel like commiting the big S. don't. Talk to someone. Somebody will care.

-Attention Deficit.


	7. Can You Help Me, I'm Bent

**Can You Help Me, I'm Bent**

I woke up loathing.

Loathing food, loathing clothing, loathing drugs, loathing family, loathing people, and loathing emotions.

I woke up loathing life.

And what a pointless thing life is. Why do you want to live for a hundred years give or take and then die and then go to whatever you believe in? For me personally, it is nothing. Why were we put here? To suffer for decades? I don't understand. Je ne comprends pas. Oh well. I'm sure all my questions will be answered when I die.

"_Really?"_ The negative voice is my head asks.

NO. I'm lying. I'm not sure of anything. I am beyond confused. I hate myself. I'm not confused about that. I know that is a hundred percent true! Or do I?

It's time for group. And I'm late for group. But when I arrive everyone seems like a zombie. The living dead. That's what we are. A group of six with no real reason. No real ambition besides to get that next hit, that new high, that new cut, that new level of no return. Sweet bliss for a little while.

I look around the room, everyone looks normal. Dazed out but normal. My eyes stop at Potter. He's glaring at me. Glaring daggers. Wishing I was dead. Holy shit! He's showing emotion. It's on his face. I am beyond surprised. I am feeling hopeful. HOLY FUCK. Hope. RUN FOR THE HILLS.

I sit there for the entire group period in shock. I broke through him. I, Draco Malfoy finally made an impact on someone else's life. And I feel… I feel… I feel confusion. Is this the first time this has happened before? I HATE BEING CONFUSED.

Group ends. Everyone starts to leave. Potter comes up to me… oh shit.

"Malfoy, your wrong." Potter says in a low voice.

"Wrong about what?" I ask calmly.

"People don't care. They are not supportive. I can't live a normal life. I am surrounded by pressure to be what they want me too. I have to get married to a girl and have children and become an auror and then a grandparent. I'm not allowed to be gay and marry a man and not have to work. I can't be Harry. I have to be The-Boy-Who-Lived. Do you think I want to live a life where I can't be myself!? Do you think I want to see a huge lists of names of people that are dead because of me when I close my eyes?" Potter hisses at me.

Everyone in group is standing around trying to hear anything but they can't. The only good part about this situation.

"Potter, I know how you feel. I am in the same boat. We are sinking in the same ship. But it's time we faced it not everyone is going to be on our side. Not everyone is going to be there for us. If friends fail you time and time again there not friends but enemies in disguise. People are like apples. Some are rotten inside and out, your enemies. Some are rotten outside but a perfect apple beneath the skin, your true friends. Some are perfect outside but beneath are rotten to the core, your fake friends. And some a perfect apples, these don't exist though everyone strives for it, are called your soul mates. It time you face up to the fact that you're gay and not alone. It's time you held your head high and surrendered to the feelings you can't change." I said. Did I really? Damn that sounded positive. What the fuck is happening to me? Hope and a positive speech to Potter. Could it be love? NO. I am not…Am I? Only one way to find out.

And while Potter is still starring at me trying to get his thoughts straight. I press my lips to his and feel the perfectly smooth feel of his lips on mine. It's……bliss. But I step back when I feel Potter tense.

"What the fuck was that Malfoy!?" He screams at me.

"That was me showing emotion to the talking inferi. For you have been dead to emotion. A void of everything human for too long. It's time you woke up."

"What about you? You keep lecturing me about living but you are in the same fucking boat. We both tried to kill ourselves. Why aren't you saying anything to your self?"

"I have no one to really live for." I whisper this. It is lame and pathetic but I am both of those things. And I am truly terrified.

"Oh, fuck you. No one to live for. Just because you don't see the people doesn't mean there not there. This is ridicules!" Harry Potter flipping out. This is something to see. Seeing how I don't think he has talked this much in ages.

A thought arises in my mind: Why is no one breaking us up? We are screaming and yelling at each other. Do they not hear us?

I look over at the people around us to see there is a shield around us. How the fuck is that there?

Potter has noticed it too. "I'm not doing that. They have guards on all magic here from the patients, it is like Azkaban. We are prisoners. In every sense."

"Who is doing this then? Better question: Who is listening to us? Fuck don't you hate people?"

"Isn't it obvious? It's a doctor, either mine or yours. Some one who knows that we need to work out a few things."

"Stupid psychiatrists."

"I think the same."

"Look we have three things in common, we are both gay, we hate psychiatrists and we both failed at killing ourselves. Great! How pathetic." I pointed out with sarcasm.

"Malfoy, I don't fucking care. All I care about is getting out of here and very soon." Potter strongly said.

"They will let us out if start to hurt each other." I plainly stated.

"I'm not attacking you."

"No you won't be. Tell me the person you hate the most."

"Why!?"

"Potter, God damn it! Just do it!"

Potter froze. Clearly unsure of whether to lie or tell the truth. He settled on the truth. He whispered, "Myself."

"Only to be expected if you wound up here. Now look in to my eyes. You will see yourself. And then attack me."

"What the hell? You don't remind me of me at all."

"Not like that, you dimwit. The reflection in my eyes. Use it to see yourself. Since we don't have a mirror. Okay?"

"Fine." Potter agreed. "Wait a minute, will you attack me?"

"I didn't think you wanted me to do that." I mumbled lamely. I was truly just scared of hurting him. Fuck I'm weak.

"Attack me. Imagine yourself too."

I nodded and we both stared in to the others eyes. Looking at ourselves. Or at least I was supposed to be. I was actually captivated by the tiny speck of brightness that had returned to the corner of Potter's right eye. But Potter swung at me. Giving me one hell of a bruising punch. I caught the off guarded look on my face in his eyes and filled with rage. I then took a swing at Potter and before long we were kicking, punching and screaming at each other. Though we really meant it for ourselves.

"You-Fucking-Useless-Faggot!" Could be heard from Potter while I screamed out, "You-Failure! You-Fucking-Pile-Of-Human-Wreckage!"

"WHY DON'T YOU JUST FUCKING DIE!?" We screamed together. At this we both stopped. And stared at each other in shock.

But the three medi-wizards came at us with their wands drawn and gave us both a strong sedative. A very strong sedative…

I wake up to find myself in a white room – white walls, white dresser, white bed, white sheets, white floor, white ceiling, white, white, whitey, white, white. It takes me a bit to realize it is my own room. And then it takes me another bit of time to realize why I am in here again and so disoriented.

I don't really care that I might be set back a stage. The only thing I can think about is that I kissed Potter. Truly kissed him. Not just a wet dream. That isn't even the worst part. Nor is the wet dream for who doesn't have a wet dream about fucking their worst enemy. Hate and lust are close. The worst part is I liked it. I liked it a lot. You could even say I loved it. But don't say it out loud. And don't you write it down. I must warn you, self, for papers are meant to be read and then used to start a fire.

The love of a kiss. Not something I thought I would ever feel. I know it sounds stupid to say so but I regret it and yet I want to do it again. Nothing ever works for me. Look how confused I am over this. This is pathetic. I feel ashamed. How dare I feel anything. Fuck I want to be a void of everything. Lifeless in all aspect of the mind. I don't care if that makes me a hopeless, mindless shell. I just want to stop feeling so much, it just fucking hurts. Who else would feel so fucking horrible for loving the feeling of kissing someone? Unless you were kissing somebody who was already in a relationship. This is so fucked up, it's a tragedy in the waiting.

I am not an expert on depression or anything of that matter, I'm just a insignificant person who has battled a lot with it and had many times where suicide is the best answer in my mind.

If you are feeling or thinking any of the thoughts showed in this fiction please, please, please get help. Know that someone out there loves you, and if you believe that is bullshit, well know that I love you. If you need to talk to me or just need to have someone that you will never see know about what you are going through, I am here and willing to help. Put in a review that you need to talk to me and I will send you my e-mail address.

Thank you all so very much for what you say and do.

Attention Deficit


	8. Caught Me On Standby

**Caught Me on Standby**

Break Down.

The scariest words I know when put together. And for me, it's coming, my Breakdown, the big finish. The dam is cracking even as I lie here on this damnable white bed, staring at the faded white ceiling. The _ceiling_ doesn't change. The _ceiling_ doesn't have to break down. The _ceiling_ just protects people from the weather.

I used to want to protect people from the weather of this world, keep them sheltered so no one has to know pain anymore. Hell, I think I actually did do that for a while, but, I made myself feel the pain and heartache of everyone else. I can be so stupid sometimes, but it was for the greater good, and people love those who act for the greater good.

But, that has all fallen away now and it's left me in this mess. I am what I am. I have come to the terms with that. I am who I am, and I won't be able to change myself mentally. I will still think that green and silver are beautiful together and that red stands for love not hatred or murder.

I know with enough medication I can see myself and the world in a different light but I don't want to cover it all up with a pretty little pill.

If there is ugliness, let it shine through, for I would rather see such ugliness then be fooled by a fake shinning light. Like a hero who in turn is really the root of all problems.

Speaking of heroes, our saviour is causing me so many internal questions. That I will never speak out loud. Such as "Why the fuck did I kiss him?" and "What the fuck am I doing picturing myself fucking him?" or my personal favourite "Am I turning in to a horny school boy over him?"

The last question I might be able to answer with an acceptable answer that doesn't result in me falling head over heels for some dumb fuck who is _still_ my enemy. Well, at any rate it's fun to pretend he is, someone to hate besides myself, my parents, Dumbledore, Snape and the world, because it is always so nice to hate someone.

Anyway the answer to the question is a simple 'yes'. I say this because I haven't had sex for the entire time I have been in here, which seems to be a long time. I'm truthfully not sure how long it has been. I'm guessing around six weeks. 'Gasp' think of the state I'm in if I'm not even keeping track of time anymore. I mean I used to be so precise and exact and now I can't even tell you if it was morning or afternoon. Although we haven't had a meal for a while so I'm guessing it's afternoon and just about time for lunch.

"But since I am only guessing, I must be losing it." I say to the wall. Shit…Look at the state I'm in, talking to the walls again. I am so hopeless.

* * *

It is time for lunch. Today's lovely lunch is a tea biscuit with a few pieces of celery and cottage cheese. Damn, they went all out.

I take my measly food and walk over to Potter's table and sit next to him.

He glares at me.

His eyes shine with hatred and…something else?

"What the fuck?" I whisper in complete surprise. "What happened to the talking inferi?"

"What are you talking about, ferret?" Potter grumbles at me.

"Just that!" I pointed out. "When was the last time you called me any name besides Malfoy? You've been dead to the world emotionally for the entire time I've been here and who knows how long before that, so what's with the sudden burst of anger towards me now?"

"Maybe because you've made me so fucking sick of your bullshit all the time that I have become super-fucking-pissed and decided to take it out on you." Potter spat.

"I did not give you any bullshit!" I hiss becoming angry at him for being angry.

"Oh yeah? You fucking kissed me! Nobody is allowed to do that. No-fucking-one! That is extremely intimate and private. Not something I want to share with someone like you! Especially since you will never love me!" He hissed.

"What? Do you want me to love you?" I spat back at him.

"I want somebody to!" He yells.

I am speechless. Dumbstruck. Struck dumb. I can't believe he told me that.

"God damnit, Malfoy, you couldn't possibly know the ache I feel. The wanting, the longing, for somebody, anybody to just love me-"

"To just wrap their arms around you and hold you tight, to kiss away your tears when the world is all on your shoulders, to be the one to wake you up in the morning or just simply have someone wrapped around you when you fall asleep each night." I whisper as I feel my heart ache for myself and for the man in front of me. "Yes, Potter, I do know what it feels like. I am not an emotionless, cold bastard. I only let you see that cold side of me."

"That's not entirely true. I saw you cry, once. In Moaning Myrtles bathroom, when you were fixing the cabinets and it wasn't working and Voldemort was going to kill your parents." Potter whispered back to me in a soft voice, almost as if he was scared that I might start crying now at the memory.

"That was the last time I cried." Why did I just tell him that?

"That's dumb. I used to cry all the time. I used to do nothing but cry."

"What about now?"

"Same boat as you, can't cry. Not in this place. It's so stupid though. We could pack up and leave if we really wanted to. We are legal adults; we make our own rules, so why the hell are we not sharing ourselves with the people that might actually help us? Why aren't we crying when we feel upset? Why are we so emotionally dead?"

"We're scared of the reaction people will convey by it, of course. So, therefore, we are on standby." I say simply. "Why should we tell the world what it was and is really like for us? We have both kept what we have been through, a secret. And I am dead sure that if I start telling people even a little bit of what I have been through, it will all pour out right after."

"Me too, so, let's do it."

"What?"

"Let's spill our past. I have a therapy session this afternoon and I am willing to spill every miniscule detail of the past twenty-seven years of my life if you will to…?"

"Why do I have to do it too? Why can't you just do it alone?"

"Scared, Malfoy?"

"Abso-fucking-lutly."

"So am I. I'm terrified of someone seeing the real me and then judging me."

"Why?"

"But therapists aren't here to judge you. They are there to give you unbiased help. They are there to listen to what you have to say and never tell you what you should feel. Or at least that's what my therapist says and I believe her."

"You never answered my question, why can't you do it alone?"

"Because I don't believe I will do it. If someone does it with me, even if we aren't in the same room or with the same therapist or even at the exact same time, then I think I can. I can't go into this without knowing that I'll have someone outside of that office that will be there for me afterwards. I'm going to need a shoulder to cry on. For, even though I'll be able to hold myself together in the office, I don't know how long I'll be able to afterwards."

"And what better shoulder to cry on then the one of your suppose-to-be enemy." I finished.

"So do we have a deal?"

"Damn, Potter, I knew you had the ability to get large crowds all ruffled up, but who knew that that ability worked on me too, how very strange." I sighed. "Fine, I accept your deal but on one condition."

"What's that?"

"I get to kiss you again after our emotional 'breakdown'." I must be going crazy. There is _**NO **_way he'll agree to that…but I really want to find out if this is more than horny school boy lust.

"Deal, meet me right back here at dinner. I 'm almost positive our stories will take all afternoon." Potter then stands up and walks away.

Maybe he too wants to see if I am falling for him. Or is this the other way around? Is he falling for me?

________________  
Quotes:

"Look at the shape I'm in  
Talking to the walls again."

-Finger Eleven  
-Talking to the Walls

Thank you so much.

Please review.

I am not an expert on depression or suicide. I don't know everything. What I do know is from my readings, or knowledge I have gained from battling depression for the last three years.

I apologize if this story offends you or hurts you in anyway. Know that I don't want to hurt you and I love you even if I don't know you or say I hate you.

Always know someone out there loves you and if you feel like committing the big S. Don't. Talk to someone. Somebody will care.

-Laura  
-Attention Deficit.

While I also am not an expert on suicide or depression, I am going through it myself, and while I can't give you facts, I can give you an ear or a shoulder if you need the help, I'll always be available to help you as much as I can.

If you want to commit suicide, talk to someone first, it WILL help. You are wanted by someone and if you can't think of someone, then think of all the fanfiction you won't be able to read anymore…no I'm kidding…Search for someone, tell your parents, if you can't tell your parents tell you friends, find someone to talk to.

-Laila

-The-Sponge-Who-Could-Fly


	9. Bad Turns To Worse

_This Chapter goes to every single person that had to wait so very long for it, for every person that reviewed and has made all the writer's block I have been facing easier. Thank you alll! Special thanks go to reviewers: **Paige Taylor, Silverkitten, moriah93ohio** and **M.C.B**. for being the only reader to have told me they have read Impulse and like the blend of the two books._

_**THe-Sponge-Who-Could-Fly** has made this chapter and every chapter after this easier to read and write. She is my beta, the reason I haven't quit on myself and this story yet. This chapter and the one after this are both dedicated to her._

**Bad Turns To Worse…**

I've lost it, I must've. I'm walking back to my room after lunch. Why did I let him convince me to agree to that? I'm not ready to spill it all… Am I?

No, I'm not. I won't be able to share the shit I've been through without breaking down. Maybe that's the point of therapy. Maybe it is not necessary for me to keep it all together, I mean I'm not at home, this isn't that shitty manor where everything has to be precisely timed and there isn't anybody trying to make me obey their ideals. Maybe, just maybe, I can be the me only one person has seen…or maybe not, since the only person who ever saw me like that, betrayed me.

Confused, Confuse, Confusing.

'Officially confused,' tattoo it on my forehead. I've no idea what to do. This is like the question everyone has the answer to, but no one can explain it. Yes or no? It's not that hard, is it?

I am now pissed at myself for being indecisive. Decisiveness is supposed to be a masculine trait. Clearly I lack that one.

Confused, pissed and now feminine, isn't this just the best day ever in this loony bin. Maybe, it's a bad idea to spill my guts out, maybe I just shouldn't do it. Maybe I should just feign amnesia around him now, pretend I never heard or agreed to what he said.

Maybe I should stop saying maybe and make a damn decision! Or I could just roll over and die.

I like that last idea, a simple exit. If only dying was that easy, like truly wanting to die and just when you roll over, you die. Simple and effective, like nothing else in my life. And that last thought is such a whinny little bitchy one. I hate people who whine and yet I can't help but do it myself.

Draco, I command you to decide. NOW!

Any time now…

I'm waiting…

Fine…let's make a list of pros and cons of telling.

Pros… Okay…cons, terrifying, nerve racking, self-sharing, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong… Wait…is it wrong? This could be the best thing I will ever done for myself. I don't need to be afraid of my past. It hasn't been great or even alright but it is still apart of me. In ways it helped shaped the person I've become. I mean, I don't like the person I've become but, I can change that, can't I? I can't change my past so maybe I should just live with it…?

Fuck…I can't decide.

What does this mean to me if I do tell?

I get to kiss him again. I get to see just where these feelings for him spring from. That makes me want to spill. I really want to know. I can't believe it but I want to know. And there's my answer, yes, I will tell someone what I've been through.

And yet, all that I think of is, that the moment I enter that room I might clam up, freeze, shut down. I might become too terrified to open my mouth. I'll need a technique. I'll need to stare at something, something that's moving and not at all attached to Granger or anywhere near Granger. A picture or a clock. I'll find something when I'm in there.

"HA! I made a decision!" I say to the ceiling. Now I am not feminine anymore, well, okay, I still am. I like blokes, how could I not be. That's a stereotypical thought. But, everyone thinks stereotypical thoughts, don't they? I'll ask someone about it later, someone who'll know enough about thinking more then talking. Someone who's talked to themselves more in a year then they've talked to anyone else in five.

"Draco, it's time for your session." Derek says, as he quickly sticks his head in the door.

I nod once and try to prepare myself for what's to come.

~*~

I'm at Granger's door. It's a wood oak kind of color. The door sticks out, compared to all the whiteness here. Maybe the white is here to help people think positively. I mean, what does white resemble? Purity, wholeness…something like that. It's a stupid color for this place then. Who is whole or pure here?

Anyway, I knock on the door and Granger answers in slow and tired voice, "Come in."

I open the door and, there she is, sitting in her chair right behind her desk writing the date on a scroll of parchment. She's dressed in light blue wizarding robes and her hair is pulled up and clipped making her appear professional but still attractive…for a female. I _must_ be changing, referring to Granger of all people as attractive.

"How are you today, Draco?" She asks staring at me with a kind smile.

"I feel like sharing a little of my past with you today." I state simply, as if it means nothing, as if both Granger and I aren't at all aware of the amount of control I'm giving up from telling her this.

"Well, that's good news. Whenever you want to start." Granger said, leaving the room dead quiet. For that quick moment, it felt like an infinite silence, a silence that would never ever have to end and I would never have to share my story and we could just sit in silence for the rest of eternity. But, then I heard the tick of a clock. The clock was hanging on the wall, to the right of Granger's desk. It read ten forty-seven. I sat there, starring at the clock till it reached ten fifty before I started talking.

"I guess it all started in sixth year, well actually right before it. I was summoned by Voldemort and he gave me a task. It was to be punishment for my fathers blunder at the ministry. Anyway, he told me to kill Dumbledore. Throughout sixth year I tried and failed to kill him. Finally, I managed to fix the cabinet leading into Hogwarts in the Room of Requirements. I let the Death Eaters lose in the school and then proceeded to find Dumbledore and accomplish my task. But, once I was face to face with the headmaster, he showed me that maybe I could have a life beyond my parent's world. Then, Snape and some other Death Eaters burst in and murdered him. I still have nightmares of Dumbledore begging for his life and then falling to his death like a rag doll. Before I truly realized what had happened, I was being pulled down the stairs by Snape. I remember curses flying and people screaming, but, I feel like it was someone else's memories, like I was there, but not as me physically, rather in some metaphysical form.

I remember Potter chasing us and screaming at us. Then, we were outside of Hogwarts and Snape apparated us away to Malfoy Manor, where Voldemort was waiting for us. He, voldemort that is, was pleased that Dumbledore was dead but, still, he was angry at me for not being the one to kill him. On that night I got my first dose of what the cruciatus curse felt like from Voldemort. The curse seemed to gather strength as it was cast repeatedly. I believe that he wasn't even that angry at me, but that by torturing me and the others into complete submission was his sick way of celebrating.

But life went one and Voldemort became more terrifying, gaining control over the ministry and outlawed his name from formal and informal speech. All the while my mother and I stayed in the manor, looking after the prisoners and just staying out of sight. It wasn't easy, but it could have been a lot worse. He tortured me a few times when he was bored or when he just wanted to humiliate me. Normally, he would make me strip while all the Death Eaters around cheered. There weren't a lot of single females around and, if there were any free females, they were protected by their fathers or future husbands. So, I was the next best thing. I had was young, with flawless skin unless you looked very closely, silky hair and, I acted wanton just so I didn't get hurt too much. In my eyes, it was easier for me to act like I loved the attention, rather than showing how much I hated it. I thought, if I showed how terrified I was I would get raped, and I hadn't been raped by them so I guess I was right. All the Death Eaters ever did was grab at me and laugh, cheer, or ask me stupid things. It was all harmless--"

"Draco, being treated like that is not harmless. It has the potential to destroy the mental image you have of yourself or make you think anything of a sexual nature is nothing more than a waste of time. It can truly damage you."

"Maybe, but I'm fine about anything having to do with sex."

"Really? Then why don't you tell me what you think sex is about?"

I stare at her blankly for a second before moving my gaze back to the clock. I know what she wants, she's asking about love. How sex can be about love, the joining of two people prepared to actually be there for the other, prepared to give themselves to the other completely, instead of just for a night.

"I honestly can not answer that. I can give you some speech on how sex can be about love, but I, personally, have never felt it."

"Fair enough, continue whenever you are ready." I guess Granger really is an okay person. I know she has had training enough to know not to push any other question she might have on me. But, it's nice to know that she can keep her cool even when it comes to me.

"Everything was pretty easy going for a while. Life fell into a routine of hiding, being a stripper, hiding some more and being tortured. That is, until I found Luna Lovegood in the prison cell. She was passed-out the first time I saw her. I was doing my routine task of emptying the bathroom bucket, and I saw her, but I couldn't bring myself to wake her. At the time she was the only prisoner. The day before, a young man named Moritz Stiefel, after being imprisoned for a little over a month, was tortured to death by Voldemort. Moritz was the only male prisoner that I liked, I wanted him to get out of the prison cell. Sometimes, I even tried to smuggle him food and water besides the tiny bit that Voldemort allowed the prisoners to help sustain themselves. I guess I had a crush on Moritz, though it seems morbid, when I knew it was almost a hundred percent likely that he would be dead before Potter killed Voldemort.

"I believe Luna was what made me finally realize that Voldemort was eventually going to kill me if I stayed under his power, and if he won the war. Her unconscious, dirty, crumbled body made me realize that I was nothing more then a working prisoner for the man who was ultimately going to kill me. So, unknown to Luna, I started to fight against Voldemort using her as my instrument. I would bring her food and water as often as I could. I tried to bring her potions too, but I was caught. And I learned what the worst thing in the world to feel is."

"And what do you believe is that, Draco?"

~*~

THIS IS PART ONE OF TWO! The rest is written and waiting for a large amounts of reviews before it is posted.

This story is now edited! Yes, this is the right time to cheer! THANK YOU THE-SPONGE-WHO-COULD-FLY!

Moritz Stiefel is a character from Spring Awakening. An amazing musical I am going to go see in April. He dies of suicide, so in a way he is already used to torture and would not mind dying by the hand of a mad man instead of his own hand. Well if he thought like me he wouldn't mind.

Please Review

_**Always know someone out there loves you and if you feel like committing the big S. Don't. Talk to someone. Somebody will care. **_

_-Laura  
-Attention Deficit._

**Editors Note:**

_**Trust in someone. It may be a little hard to find them but they are out there. Confront your reasons and try to resolve them. Trust someone whose been in that situation as I have. It still hard to cope, but continue trying and you'll be a better person for it. I hope I don't sound like a sap, but it's true. At least…that's what my counselor said.**_

_**-**__Laila_

_-The-Sponge-Who-Could-Fly_


	10. And The Worst Turns into Hell

_Thank you to all who reviewed, it truly means a lot. Please answer the question at the end of this chapter to help further this stories future. Thank you._

…**And the Worst Turns into Hell**

"Betrayal, what an unkind thing. You think best friends would mean that the person would choose her best friend over an escape but no. Never. How dare I even think that? It's selfish of me really. I mean people are only 'BEST' friends and best friends are only suppose to be there for one another right? Or is it asking too much? Maybe it isn't supposed to mean someone you can trust and that will be there for you, maybe it just means someone that you can tell everything to but in the end will turn around and betray you to the supreme form of evil."

"It is pointless for me to be even sharing this with you really. It isn't going to make me feel better." I say out loud. I don't even truly mean this I'm just getting frightened.

"Then why are you here?" She asks.

"I made a deal with a certain person that if I spilled my guts then he would too."

"And you love this person?"

"Huh?"

"Well, to talk about what you've been through because someone else asked you too is a sign of love for that person. Especially since you have been in here for two months and haven't shared anything about the reasons why you are here. I thought it would be safe to come to the conclusion that you loved the person."

I give her a blank stare. Do I love him?

"Or maybe you haven't come to that conclusion yet, or maybe you don't love him but you really just want to share what you've been through and if it is on someone else's terms it just makes it easier for you." She pauses and gives me this look as though she can see right through me. She can't. Can she? "Anyway please continue."

I try to figure out what she is thinking as she waits for me to continue speaking but her face in unreadable.

"My _best friend_," I start to spill it all out again, staring at the clock. "Was the one person that found out that I was trying to help Luna. She was the only one at the time that knew I was gay. She found me one night placing a plate of food on the inside of Luna's cell and she went ballistic, she screamed and screamed at me, 'Draco! Don't you know we could both die because of this?!' 'Draco, are you fucking insane?' Eventually she calmed down and she said that she would go tell the Dark Lord right then what I was doing unless I did something for her. And so I started to do jobs for her. I made her bed, did her chores, rubbed her feet, ran her baths. She went from being my best friend to just like all of the other people in my life, using me until I was no longer good. Eventually I became no longer useful to her and she told the Dark Lord that I was gay.

"I remember standing a wall watching a Death Eater meeting and feeling absolutely empty and freezing cold. Then the subject turned to the Death Eater's to be futures and my father said something about me marring a pureblood from Germany. Pansy sniggered at that and I felt everything turn to slow motion as Voldemort and his Death Eater's turned to face her. They asked what was so funny and she told them 'No girl will marry Draco when she will finds out that he is a faggot!' Up until the point I never realized the word 'faggot' could hurt so much. The room looked at me. Voldemort slit eyes shimmered, Lucius tried to keep his face composed but his eyes were screaming murder, Narcissa just looked disappointed and Pansy was sneering at me, as if she was glad that this fact could get me killed.

"Voldemort stared at me for a bit longer and then changed the subject. I think he wanted to see me be tortured by parent's right there. Though they would never rise a hand at me with so many people around, I was sure that when the meeting ended they would beat me, like they did when I was young and did something wrong. But they didn't. I waited all day for one of them to come near me but they didn't. They didn't talk to me for the next four days. I don't know what hurt more; that they were so ashamed of me they couldn't talk to me or that the only person I ever trusted Hogwarts betrayed me in the worst way. I spent the next four days in my room, hiding. In hindsight, I should have faced them. I shouldn't have been so cowardly. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe five days after they found out she wouldn't have done what she did. Maybe if my parents would have been near me, maybe Bellatrix wouldn't have been allowed to be in the manor after that night."

I pause unable to say it. That night, God damnit, that night! Why didn't anyone save me? Why did they all leave when I needed someone, anyone, the most?

"What night, Draco?" Granger asks gently.

"The…The night my aunt first raped me." I am frozen. I have never told anyone that before. I can't look at her. What if she judges me? I stare at my shoes, hunched over with my hair covering my face.

"Draco, you do realize that her actions are not your fault? You did not deserve what you got, no one does. Do you believe that?"

"No." I whisper, not able to lie or look at her.

"Why not?"

"Well, why didn't anyone stop her? That night was the first of seventeen times before she died. Why wasn't she stopped? The only reason I can come up with is that those who knew of what was going on though I deserved it… I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Granger looks at me, a soul searching look before nodding her head and saying, "Alright, what do you want to talk about now? Do you want to continue with your story or do you want to be finished here for today?"

I consider both options for a moment. If I continue I will lose more control but that was the hardest part to tell. If I don't then I will have to tell her eventually if I ever want to get out of here.

"I'll continue my story." I say quietly. Granger nods her head and I go back to starring at the clock. It was two minutes past noon. I had talked for a little more than an hour. Surprised at how much time had already passed, I took a deep breath and continued on.

"After the end of the war, the Malfoy name lost all respect and my family tried to put it all back together. My mother saved Potter's life, so he saved mother and me from having to go to prison. My father only went for two years and because of the dementors all being destroyed; he was almost the same man when he came back. During the two years he was away, my mother and I tipped toed around each other. I went to muggle London a lot and slept with a lot of men. That way they never knew of my history and they could never find me again.

"When my father did come back from Azkaban, I still tried to tip toe around both parents. Unfortunately it didn't work. Three months after he had come back from Azkaban he followed me to one of the spots where I would pick up men. I don't remember what that night's fuck buddy's name was but I remember telling him my name was Moritz. My father waited till I was in an alley feeling this guy up before he decided to intervene. He grabbed me by the collar and slammed me against the wall. The other man ran away, never looking back, as my father started to yell.

"DRACO! How could you dare disgrace me like that? You are a Malfoy! Not some Fucking Queer!"

He smacked me across the face and I could only stare at him in shock.

"How could you even consider fucking a muggle?! You are a Pureblood, have I taught you nothing?!"

And with that he apparated both himself and me back to the manor where he told me to go to my room and never ever let him catch me doing that disgraceful act again. I stupidly obeyed. I ran up to my room and hid in my closet like I did when I was little and was scared from some kind of nightmare I would have had. In the closet I found a pair of dragon daggers that Severus Snape had given me for my twelfth birthday. They were supposed to be used for cutting up potions ingredients, since when I was young that I wanted to be but I barely used them. I admired them too much to get them dirty. They were steal blades with a charm on them so that they would never dull but the handles themselves were silver dragons with sapphires eyes. The artwork of dragons always captivated me, probably because my name means dragon. Anyway, in the closet I found the daggers and through the small crack of light they glittered at me, almost calling me to them. I stared at the sapphire for such a long time until I realized the daggers were leaning against my skin. I suddenly got the thought in my head that red would look very good mixed in with the silver and blue, and the closest thing that was red was my blood. Acting on the impulse, I removed my pants and sliced open my skin right around my left right thigh, to reveal the most beautiful mix of colours dance before my eyes. I stared at the blood cover daggers until a house elf came and opened the closet door and healed my wounds. It then told me to get up and get ready for the new day. I crawled out of the closet to find that the soon was up and that it was around ten o'clock in the morning. I made myself presentable and did what I normally did, take care of some paper work for the ministry, avoid my parents, wallow in self pity; the usual.

"Life moved into an easier pattern for me. I had to ways to find release now; cutting and sex. I always found that if the house elves healed the cuts there would never be any scars, no matter how long after the incision was made. It was exhilarating for a while but eventually like the meaningless sex, it became mundane and I started to cut deeper and deeper to try to get that same high as the first one. Eventually I just did it because it was part of the routine. I let myself slip deeper and deeper into a routine that always ended up showing me life was pointless and I was better off dead. So I went to work, which was odd for me since I could work at home, and slit both of my forearms. Though I got light headed while finishing the left wrist and fell causing someone to hear me and come in to save me. I do not know who that person is. I only remember they were tall. Then I ended up here." I look at the clock again, one hour and twenty seven minutes to tell my life story, well my incomplete story.

"May I ask you some questions?" Granger asks.

I nod, unsure of what she may ask but curious none the less.

"When your father was yelling at you for being a disgrace to the Malfoy name, did you ever think it wasn't because you were gay but because it was a muggle you were about to have sex with?"

"…No. My father never seemed to be happy that I was gay."

"Maybe he wasn't pleased about it but he accepted it. Many homosexual's parents aren't happy with their child's sexual preference but they accept it, even if it takes them awhile."

"I have never thought about it that way, my father just never seemed to be pleased with me, no matter what I did, so I have no idea."

"If you were to ask your parents if they accept you and they said yes, would you start to accept yourself?"

"I do accept myself."

"Draco, do you believe you will ever find love or happiness? Do you even believe love can happen between people of the same sex? We live in a society where most people are alright with homosexual relationships. Maybe your parents were only displeased with your relationships because they did not want to see you in pain."

I freeze; I truly do not know what to say. Luckily, Granger does not press me for answers but moves on with more questions.

"When Severus Snape saved you from bleeding to death in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, would you say that is the last time that someone showed you affection before you started to cut yourself?"

I stop to think about it before I whisper, "Yes."

"Do you think that is the true reason that you started to cut? Since when you were bleeding someone showed you love and cared about you, your subconscious put together that bleeding in front of people will help people to start to love you. Do you agree with this?" Granger asks me.

"It could be correct, it sounds very reasonable. Can I think about it some more and get back to you?" I ask, scared shitless that if what she says is true then what I have been thinking was the reason for the self-injury was all just a bullshit cover for something that was a lot deeper, a lot heavier.

"Of course you can." Granger smiles. "That is all the questions I have for today, you may leave if you want to, unless you have more to say."

"No, I'll go eat lunch. Bye." I say hastily and then proceed to try not to run out the door. Clearly this leaves me with a whole fucking lot to think about and it truly does scare me. All of the things I'm doing could be for a search for love, affection, attention. I may be the thing I hate most and always claim not to be: an attention whore.

* * *

_**!QUESTIONS FOR READERS!**_

Please, dear reader, answer the following questions so I can get a general idea of my publics wants. Thank you.

Do you want Draco's life outside of Aspen Springs to be in this story or a sequel?

Should Draco's life after this detour be in first person or third person point of view?

Please Review and let me know what you would like.

_**Always know someone out there loves you and if you feel like committing the big S. Don't. Talk to someone. Somebody will care. **_

_-Laura  
-Attention Deficit_


	11. Cause A Heart That Hurts

**'Cause A Heart That Hurts Is A Heart That Works**

You would think that after all this time something would fit into place. I've spilled my guts, most of my best kept secrets are gone. Although, secrets _are_ made to be told, and promises _are_ made to be broken, but, I kept my promise to him, I spilled it all. Verbal vomit, a spew of thoughts, emotions and feelings all in the form of words. Unattractive in meaning but beautiful in sound.

Isn't it supposed to make you feel good when you tell someone about whatever it is that is bothering you? People say it takes a weight of your shoulders when you share your burdens. But I don't feel any weight off. I don't feel lighter. I don't feel better! Why can I never be like what people expect? I want to be normal or even a stereotypical faggot. I want to squeal at bugs and have a little dog. I want to wear pink and wave my hands flamboyantly. I want… I want to be someone else.

What have I done? I told myself it would make me feel better but I feel worse. I feel a crushing, wishful feeling for something I will never have. What was the point of telling her if I'm not feeling any better? Should I have just kept my mouth shout?

"Is kissing Potter worth this?" I ask myself.

Right this very second… I have no idea.

* * *

I move swiftly towards the dinning room. I'm nervous, unsure if I really want any kind of contact or emotion from Potter. But, at the same time I'm excited to get the contact and emotions. The power of having my questions answered over my feelings for Potter is too great for me to back out now.

Through the big white doors, line up, get the food and go straight to the table Potter normally occupies. I try not to run, I try to be graceful but my emotions are getting the better of me. I sit on the opposite side of Potter. He doesn't look very good, his hair is more mussed than usual, as if a thousand finger tips have run through it, his mouth is in a tight white line, and his jaw is in a clenched position that seems like it should hurt more than anything else. His body looks like it's waiting for an attack, and his eyes… God his eyes! They're filled with so many emotions. So many that only a person who has felt all of them could be able to describe it. Some people would say sad, or depressed but someone like myself would say hopeless, loveless, alone, depressed, haunted, as if he has watched everyone he loves die in the most brutal way possible. The amount of agony in his eyes would make most people crumble.

I slowly slide my hand across the table to reach for his hand, which are rigidly placed beside his dinner plate. As my fingers softly slide against his knuckles, his whole body tenses and then tries to relax. Potter lets go of a small burst of air and it sounds like a very soft sob he is sending out.

"Potter…?" I ask slowly and with that one word he releases another sob and his hand moves to grab mine, seeking a small amount of comfort from my presence.

"It was my entire fault. All of it." Potter agonized whisper fills my head with a deep sadness. "Every single one of them _dead _because of _me_. I should never have been born, or I should have died the first time he tried to kill me. Someone else should have this _burden _placed on their shoulders. I was way too young." Again, Potter lets go of a sob.

I can not stand to just sit here and let him face this misery alone. Without letting go of his hand, I stand up and walk over to sit next to him at the table, and let him lean against me; put his full weight against me; allow me to keep him from completely breaking apart; allow me to be the rock he needs right now.

I can't help but realize the comedy in being my rival's rock, when for so long I was trying to steal the rock away from him. Although, is he still my rival?

"Potter, you may have been too young to face all of that but if you had died when he originally planned it, I would have also been dead. I would have found no point in going to school or even trying to act like I wasn't in line to be the next great Death Eater. I would have succumbed to suicide by the age of fourteen. You gave a point to my life no other person could have placed in to it. You gave me a reason to not give up. I had to defeat you somehow and only then could I die. But I've never defeated you, and I probably never will." I say confidently and quietly. I'm trying to make him feel better, but I believe I'm more talking to keep myself from becoming too uncomfortable. This _is _unknown territory I'm in right now, and it _does_ scare me a little.

"I know that it's supposed to be uplifting when you tell someone your life story but telling Doctor Sykes has only made me feel worse." Potter whispers.

"I had the same feeling too. I really do hate it when people say things that aren't true. Although, it _was_ so much easier to tell, when I thought that I would feel better. Unfortunately, now knowing that I don't just makes me feel like I've lost control over what was only mine." I move my fingers against his hand, trying to comfort him.

"We're so much a like it's kind of frightening."

"Potter, please. We are not at all alike. We are just sharing some of the same negative thoughts."

"Negative thoughts. You make it sound so light. Negative thoughts. Like the feeling of complete and utter loathing for yourself is normal for any person. Knowing that the death of parents, friends, godparents, whole families, acquaintances, and other people are not at all my fault. If I had only killed him when the Death Eaters first started to attack the castle, so many people would still be alive today. They would have lived normal lives, married, had children, lived and loved like they were all suppose to. Or the others that died leaving behind kids. Children that will never get the pleasure of feeling loved from their parents because I took to god damn long. A bunch of people I should have saved." Potter's voice cracked multiple times, as he tried to hold in all his emotions that were threatening to come pouring out.

Tightening my grip on his hand I said, "It is not your fault. You were not the only one who had to face that battle, you may have been given a task to perform that only you could complete but it was never on your shoulders alone."

"How do you know about the task I was given?" Potter asked in a defensive tone. Though I still saw through his strategy to not respond to the rest of words.

"The prophet put out a special on the great Boy-Who-Lived while you were attending funerals or visiting friends in hospitals. It said that you had a task to complete that only you could do. It reported that some people knew that you had to be the one to finish him off, but no one knew why it had to be you."

'Only Hermione and Ron knew the reasons behind my actions leading to the downfall of that fucker. At least they didn't betray me on that fact." Potter mumbled the last part bitterly.

"What happened between the Golden Trio? You were the picture perfect image of best friends."

"That's the problem with pictures, Malfoy, they are often false. With them… well, the little things just started to add up. They kept this essence of innocence with them after the war that I lost back when Sirius died. They didn't understand why I wasn't able to smile without a reason, walk with my head held high, or even get out of bed some days. They believed that if I was out in crowded areas I would be able to get over any kind of loneliness I have ever felt. They did not realize that any of the girls that they wanted to hook me up with only wanted to fuck or date the 'Harry Potter' not just Harry. Finally after one particularly horrible girl they set me up with I finally decided to tell them that I was gay and never had, nor ever will, fuck, or marry any of the girls they set me up with. At best I would put a memory charm on the girl to think that I had screwed her, just to make my friends happy.

"I just couldn't lie to them anymore I said. Ron freaked out first, saying that he excepted that I was gay but why the hell couldn't I have said so sooner, he wouldn't have to found so many girls then. As if I was an inconvenience that he just had to deal with. Hermione agreed with him that I should have said so sooner, and then they could have set me up with a great man. She said it as if my life wouldn't be complete without someone dating me. As if I need to feel infatuated with some bloke for them to think that I will be what they want again.

"I stopped hanging out with them so much after that night. They saw me from time to time with some bloke hanging off of me. Hermione would have this disgusted look on her face and Ron would just frown. Who are they to judge me about who I sleep with?" Potter snarled.

Granger's words played in my head when I told her about my father finding me with some boy. '_Maybe he wasn't pleased about it but he accepted it._'

"Potter, what if Granger and Weasley accepted you for what you are but were not pleased about who you are going out with. Maybe they just didn't want to see you in a line of meaningless relationships that would lead to nothing but wasted time and good fucks. When I told Granger about my father being pissed when he found me fucking some muggle, she said that it may be that he did accept me for who I was but was angry about who I was fucking. Maybe you just took their care for you in the wrong way."

Potter stared at the dinner plate for a few minutes, thinking every thing over before shrugging, "It doesn't really matter anyway. They are not apart of my life anymore."

"To give them up is very foolish. They care a great deal about you. They always have and always will. Just listening to Granger talk about you clears any doubt that she has stopped loving you. You are like a brother to them, someone that they would accept and forgive for anything. Do not throw that away."

Again he shrugs non-committal. "Why is it that whenever we start to talk, it is always about psychoanalyzing me? Are you that scared to share yourself? What do you think I'm going to do? Run and tell every reporter, "Guess what! Draco Malfoy actually has a heart and has faced more horror then anyone else I know"? Why are you so afraid?"

"I am not afraid." I say defiantly.

"Oh, really? Tell me then, un-afraid Draco," Potter whispers, "Did they rip your soul away when they tortured you, or is it only in shreds?"

I wince. "I was never… Who told you I was tortured?"

"No one had to tell me, when you've seen so many grieving people, so many scarred people, so many defeated people, you just start to realize who has been tortured and who hasn't. You wince every time people bring up your family's house, though I think that is a subconscious reaction. So tell me Draco, what happened?"

"I was raped by my Aunt Bellatrix. She used a hardening spell on me and raped me, as I begged and pleaded for her to stop. She did so seventeen times before she finally died. I was molested in that house by Voldemort and his cronies. I fell in love with a boy who was a prisoner there and he was murdered right in front of me, and I had to keep up a blank, unaffected stare as my heart was screaming at me to do something. Torture was a part of my life."

"You said 'was'."

"What?"

"You said 'was' as if you think it isn't anymore. Do you believe it isn't anymore?" Potter asked.

"Well…" I stalled, what was I really suppose to say?

"'Cause if it isn't anymore, then what is your life made up of now?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. I have nothing really left. I hated my job, I am not on good terms with my parents and I have no close friends to speak off."

"Do you honestly believe that you have nothing? Are there people waiting for you to come back to them? People that you've pushed away? And really, Draco, you may find that all you need to do is open your eyes to realize who is there for you. If you were to only lift your head up now, you would see that I'm here for you."

I lift my head and his brilliant green eyes shocked and awed me. I had never looked right in to his eyes. To call them just a shade of green would be wrong; there were so many shades to them from pale green to almost black. It was as if his soul was reflected in those eyes.

Then he moved. He pressed his lips against mine lightly and let his tongue flick over my bottom lip. But before I could respond, he pulled back and smiled at me, a true smile.

"Thank you, Draco. You have helped me more then you will ever be aware of." Potter stood up and started to walk towards the door of the eating lounge. "Oh and Draco?"

I looked up at him stunned.

"The name isn't Potter, it's Harry. Just Harry."

* * *

AND WE'RE PATCHED! PATCHED! PATCHED....

So, I love this chapter. I believe it is one of my favourites. The characters are moving, the plot is moving, the romance will be picking up. No longer are we moving for the sake of motion but creating for the means of an ends. Though the end is along way off! There are so many people to still include and so many sub-plots to deliver, like the Weasley's, the roommate, Blaise, Portraits, The stupid pint named Pansy, The Malfoy's, the Malfoy Portraits... Need I go on? Of course, I need to go on, there is just so much work to be done. And to top it all off, it is summer, which means besides fast tracking through some classes I will time to write and write and write (I knew there was a good part about not being able to get a job). So prepare yourself and stay alert. The summer has only started.

**MAJOR THANKS TO PLACEBO FOR GETTING ME OUT OF THIS WRITERS BLOCK! YOUR MUSIC, ESPECIALLY YOUR NEW CD HAS MADE THE BEST MONTH A WHOLE LOT BETTER! ALL READERS SHOULD LISTEN TO BRIGHT LIGHTS BY THEM! The title is taken from that song.**

Please Review

**_Always know someone out there loves you and if you feel like committing the big S. Don't. Talk to someone. Somebody will care. _**

_-Laura  
-Attention Deficit._


	12. Wrapped in Lust and Lunacy

**Wrapped in Lust and Lunacy**

Harry. Just Harry. Harry Potter. _The_ Harry Potter. _My _Harry Potter. See how close it is to him being mine? But is he something I really want to claim, or do I more want to set him free and see what he decides to do for himself? I do not love him. _Please, _I only **want** him. I have decided that is what this is. Its lust; lust for the world's savior, to have him sleep in my bed each night, for him to return to me, where Iget to do as I please, move where I please. Do you understand? This is not love, nor is it some crazy need for him to always be around but, more of a lust for his body and, if that comes with the calming presences he brings, so be it. That took me all night to think of. It wasn't till the sun started to peek through the window of this white room that I realized I did not need him to be there, I just wanted him to be there. Consequently, I am exhausted, and I have group today.

Group therapy, the only part of my incarceration that does not feel like a leech. Everything else sucks away my energy until I can't recover all that I have lost. Sort of like someone pulled the rug out from underneath me and I'm trying to stand again, no matter how dizzy I am. As I walk through the halls to breakfast and then to group therapy, I feel as if I am living some kind of dream life. My real life or at least the one I've been conscious for, has always had so much negativity, so many turns and has just been overtly twisted. But in this place, it feels as if I have no cares or worries, nothing to keep me pinned down, nothing to stop me from breaking out of my prison.

"Today, I thought it would be a good idea to talk about some of the positive we miss while we've been in here. I do not want to hear sex or drugs; I want to hear about your dog, or the sunshine." Leader Lesley says with a smile. The group shares some items but I'm too tired to stay focused on their words. I just stare at Harry until group is done and I have to go to therapy with Granger. Although, that's not normal considering I usually have lunch first.

When I get t the door of Granger's office, I find the door closed and voices coming from the other side.

"He is no son of mine, the little faggot." A familiar man's voice snarled.

"Sir, please do not say such harsh words near me." Granger's voice replies.

I take a deep breath and the door swings open. My father is standing on the other side holding the door open and glaring at me. He's wearing his usual long black robes and is carrying his silver snake cane that he uses to beat the house elves who misbehaved. The cane that the Ministry took away when they put us on trial for working with Voldemort; the cane they, supposedly, have never given back.

"There you are, you little shit. Can't you ever be on time?" He snarls at me, his eyes pierce through me with their hateful stare.

"Father, mother, what are you doing here?" My voice is surprisingly calm and confident.

"We are here to see our son. You've been in here for six months and we haven't been allowed to see you." My mother says in a monotone voice. She looks younger than she did when I last saw her, as if she has had some major burden lifted off of her or she's been at a spa for four months.

"You are looking well mother."

"Do not speak to your mother! After everything she has gone though to keep your stupidity from ruining us! You should be ashamed of yourself. Next time you try to kill yourself, do it right! Don't slit your wrists like some kind of pansy! Jump from high heights, hang yourself, or get someone who hates you to _Avada Kedavra_ you, many people would be willing to do it. Even I would be willing to do it in a heartbeat. A disgraceful son like you does not need to be tainting the Malfoy name!" And with an evil glint in his eye, my father raised his silver cane above his head and smacked my chest with it so hard that all the air left my lungs.

I cried out in pain and as he raised his cane again to hit me. I fell to the floor and curled up in to the fetal position to protect myself as best as I could from the damage he could inflect.

"You insolent fuck! You couldn't do one simple task, how hard is it to kill an old man? You're a disappointment, such a disappointment! Anyone else would have been able to! AN OLD MAN!"

As a crack from the cane hit my head, I felt my control on my magic start to loosen. I opened my eyes when I heard my father gasp. I looked up to find the items around the room twirling around him in an increasing pace and starting to hit him back. His young looking face was still glaring at me though his shield charm, and the hint of malice in his eyes only seemed to be growing. He looked like a man enjoying his prisoner's last attempt to free himself before he tortured them him complete submission.

The longer his eyes held to mine, the faster the items around him tried to attack him, the more the lights flickered, the more sparks ran around me. The sparks turned and started attacking my mother along with my father.

Suddenly, a voice called to me from somewhere from behind and my uncontrolled magic stopped attacking my parents whom had been stupefied and were lying on the ground in a crumpled heap.

Spinning around fast on my knees, causing them to ache, I took in the appearance of a man behind me. He was wearing form fitting black jeans, with a white leather belt, and a tight forest green shirt that magnified every inch of abdominal muscles, and finger nails painted black. The man was kneeling in front of me before I could even register that he had moved, and as my gaze moved away from his gorgeous body, I was stunned by the beautiful face of Harry Potter looking at me with such concern and admiration that my heart melted.

"I heard people shouting and things breaking. I came to make sure everyone was okay." Harry whispered, the concern in his face started to fuse with a particular sadness known all too well to me.

"You always had a saving thing." I wheezed, my lungs aching.

"Shush. I never had a saving thing, people just needed someone and I was always close enough to save them." Harry smiled.

"I wasn't close to you. You came running to me. You have a protecting thing." I smirked.

"Of course Draco, I will always come running when you need me, no matter what you do or have done to me. But for now you need to wake up."

"What?"

"Wake up, Draco. Group is over."

I open my eyes yet again to find myself staring at the beautiful face of Harry Potter leaning over me as the others in group leave the room.

"It was just a dream…" I say sadly.

"You fell asleep. Maybe you need more sleep." Harry says and a hint of concern creeps into his eyes. "Anyway, it's lunch time, and when we get some of this delectable dog food, you can tell me all about this dream you are ever-so-reluctant to leave."

Harry pulled me to my feet and together we make our way to the dining room. After receiving today's scrumptious lunch of macaroni and cheese, we make our way to the usual table. As soon as we sit down, Harry bursts out with, "So tell me about the dream."

"Well I had a regular therapy with Granger but my parents were already there and my father started to swear at me and talk about my inability to ki-" I pause, realization hitting me like the cruciatus curse.

"How can you even look at me?" I whisper in a torn voice.

"What are you talking about? Draco, what's wrong?" Harry asks with the same concern written on his face, that concern for me.

"Stop! Just stop looking like at me like that! It's because of me that your mentor is _dead! _It's because of me that many other nameless people died! People you knew and loved! How can you even talk to me?" There are tears threatening to overwhelm me.

"Draco, I've never blamed you for Dumbledore's death. I _saw _you lower your wand, I know that if the other Death Eaters hadn't come up the tower so soon you would have allowed Dumbledore to protect you and your family." Harry said gently.

I ripped off the bandages covering my left arm showing Harry my fading Dark Mark and the scars from the dagger. "I've killed people!" I scream at him in a desperate whisper.

"I have too." Harry says simply.

"That is not the same! I've ripped away life from innocent people, from people who _did_ _not_ deserve to meet their end so cruelly."

"Draco, after I killed Voldemort I spent five years traveling across the world, looking for stray Death Eaters. I _tortured_ people to find information on_ any_ person affiliated with Voldemort. You want to talk about killing innocent people, I've _destroyed entire villages_ when Death Eaters have slipped through my grip. I have more blood on my hands then almost every single Death Eater. So _what_ if you have the Dark Mark, I have tattoos on my body too, my tattoos though will never fade." Harry whispered.

"…What do you mean 'Never fade'? The Dark Mark fades?"

"Surely, you have noticed that your mark has been fading ever since Voldemort died? Every person that has forgiven Voldemort no longer has their Dark Mark." Harry stated simply, not at all aware that he was shattering my world even more.

"Are you serious? It's my inability to get over what happened that's screwed me in to keeping a reminder plastered on my skin. Making it so that every time I wear a short sleeve shirt, go topless, or even just glance at my arm that I am reminded of all the horrible things I have done and that has been done to me. And, of course a Death Eater that has murdered millions of people would easily be able to forgive Voldemort and have the mark off of his skin, but for lowly me, a murderer of only twenty-four people, I still have this damned mark maiming my skin. After eleven fucking years!" A tear drop rolls down my cheek and before I can move to wipe it away Harry leans across the table and lightly brushes it away. His finger tips on my skin calms me down enough so that he has time to talk.

"I know that it seems torturous and unfair, Draco, that you should be one of the few people with the Dark Mark still on your skin, but you must understand that this is what Voldemort wanted when he created the marks. For people to get rid of the mark, they don't really have to forgive Voldemort himself. It's more of coming to terms with what they've done under his rule, and from there forgive themselves. When Voldemort made the mark he wanted to make sure that the followers that were least like him were punished for longer. Voldemort never understood emotions based on love, and therefore saw them as a weakness. So, to him, someone that loved and saw their acts of destruction as a bad thing instead of the glory Voldemort saw it as, would have to live with the mark longer than other followers that were alright with what they had done."

I am silent as I gather in all Harry has told me. Harry sits facing me patiently as I figure things out, his hand takes a hold of mine and his thumb calmingly strokes the back of my hand while he waits for me to say something.

Eventually I reluctantly remove my hand from his and stand up. "Excuse me." I say in a confident voice.

"Where are you going?" Harry asks shocked.

"I have to ask Granger about speaking to my parents." I say with a reassuring smile, as I stand up and walk up next to him to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before I smile one more time at him and start my trek to Granger's door.

* * *

Oh shit! An I'm already half way done chapter 13 which will be called Forgotten, Lost & Left Behind. Movement is good, agree?

Please Review

**_Always know someone out there loves you and if you feel like committing the big S. Don't. Talk to someone. Somebody will care. _**

_-Laura  
-Attention Deficit._


	13. Forgotten, Lost & Left Behind

****

Forgotten, Lost & Left Behind

"Draco!" Granger exclaims as she opens the door after the first knock. "What a surprise, please, come in."

I smile at the flustered sound in her voice and how utterly surprised she seems to be when she sees me. I take my usual seat as she sits behind her desk.

"How can I help you, today?" She asks with a soul searching glance, as if she can already see what is going on inside of my head, as if she has me all figured out.

"I would like to speak to my parents as soon as possible." I state simply.

Her face shows no hint of surprise, as she nods and tells me she will floo-call them then and see when they are available.

"Hello again, Narcissa." She speaks to my mother as if she is an old friend. And why is it 'Hello _again_'? Has Granger been in contact with my parents while I have been incarcerated in this place?

"-An hour it is then. See you soon." Granger moves back to her seat and smiles at me, a kind encouraging smile.

"They will be here in an hour. Your father had a business meeting this morning and Narcissa said he could not be pulled away from it no matter how much he wanted to. Your mother is really looking forward to seeing you." Granger continues to smile at me in her warm way, a smile that makes me feel as if it is all going to be fine, except…

"How come you seem to be on such friendly terms with my mother?" I ask as I raise my eyebrow.

"You mother and father have been in contact with me ever since you were first sent here. I am not allowed to release any information to them about your well-being since you are an adult and it is up to you whether or not you want them to learn anything about your progress here. They have respected that rule and have flooed me once a week to make sure you were still here."

"Why didn't you ask me whether or not I wanted them to know about my life here?"

Granger looked me straight in the eye, as her smile diminished a little, and she said, "They did not want to bother you. They thought it would upset you to know that they would know about your stay here. Your parents believed that you would do better in your recovery if you did not have them prying into your life. They care so much for you Draco, I have never seen any person's parents think more about their child then they do."

Could what Granger be saying correct? Could my parents actually care enough to let me be here, even though it hurt them like Granger said?

I spent the remaining time before my parent's arrival going over everything they have ever done for me and I came to the conclusion that I had never really seen my parents as people that want the best for me. I have always seen them as business people. But that wasn't true. They loved each other, they loved me, and in their own way they showed that love. It just wasn't out in the open and obvious all the time.

Eventually, the hour came to an end, and I remembered why I wanted to see my parents in the first place. Their Dark Marks. Were they still burning brightly on my mother and father's arms, or dimming like mine or completely gone? I needed to see proof of what Harry was saying. I needed to know if I was the only former Death Eater that still had that mark marring their flesh.

The fireplace flashed a bright emerald green twice as my father and then my mother emerged from it. Granger greeted them first as I rose from my chair.

"Hello Narcissa, Lucius." Granger smiled and then suddenly my father's eyes were upon mine and I saw how much older he looked. His eyes were lined with wrinkles and there were a few silver hairs mixed in with the blond, though they were difficult to see. The same could be said for my mother though she had less wrinkles and silver hairs. It looked like they had aged ten years in the past six months.

I moved forward to greet my parents, and once I was a few feet away from my father I stuck out my right hand to shake his left one. He visibly winced and frowned at the indifferent way I was acting, but he recovered himself in a second to shake my hand.

Using my seeker skills, as soon as his hand was in mine, I turned his palm upwards and with my left hand pushed his sleeve upwards to relieve nothing but clear porcelain skin. He was not marked by his evil. His skin was no longer tainted by any reminder of who he had killed or what other horrors he had done.

I groaned as the tears built up behind my eyes, "Is yours the same?" I asked my mother in a harsh, torn voice.

She nodded sadly and pulled back her sleeve to show her bare left arm.

I let loose one sob and then flung my arms around my father as I started to cry. Why is it always me that has to take the long way? Why do I have to suffer this torture for so long?

"Son," My father called to me as he stroked my hair with one hand as the other one that was wrapped around me made small soothing circles on the middle part of my back. "My Mark only faded last year, after many painstaking attempts at burning it off, I finally realized that I would have to forgive myself before it would ever leave. I traveled a lot seven years ago, do you remember?" He asked as I removed my face from his shoulder and looked up at him. I nodded my head slowly and glanced over at my mother to notice that she too had tears falling from her eyes

"I spent that time searching for any remaining family of the few people I knew by name. I begged them to forgive me and some of them did. Others did not, but what one man said will always be engrained in my head. He told me that it was of no consequence to me if he could forgive me but whether or not I could forgive myself. For in the end that is what will really matter. So Draco, you must understand that is not by any means that the Fact that the Dark Mark is still on your arm is a result of your incompetence but rather it is a result of your good heart, your ability to love and care for people even if you do not know them or do not like them. That the Dark Mark is still on your arm, Draco is not something to be ashamed off but something to remind you that you are a good person who has a good heart." My father smiled at me, and then let go off me.

"Shall we move to the couches?" Granger asked in a quiet voice, the emotions in her voice gave away her professional look.

My father moved to sit down and I waited for my mother to move, but instead of walking towards the couch she moved towards me and wrapped her arms around me tightly and I hugged her back just as tightly.

"I love you son, never doubt that." She whispered in my ear, before letting go and moving to sit next to my father in a love-seat couch that was never there before, while I moved to sit in a single, comfortable looking chair and Granger took her usual chair but moved in closer to the couch that never was there before.

"Your father went searching for forgiveness for his past deeds and I visited the graves of the people that I have watched die." My mother said in a soft, gentle voice. "Since I was a female, Voldemort did not believe that I could do any kind of actual work, besides caring for the prisoners or making meals. I never had to kill anyone, but there were many people I watched die in the cellars, many people that I wanted to help but was too afraid to. You did though Draco! I knew you were helping Moritz and Luna, I watched as they grew stronger and become aware that people were in the room. I watched their eyes fill with disappointment when it was me in the cellar and not you. You are a good person, Draco. Never be ashamed of yourself."

My father wiped the tears off of her face and they grasp each other's hands. I take a deep breath, knowing that since we are spilling truths, it is time I told them about my life. The parts of it they were not aware off.

"I have something to tell you two that is hard for me to say and it will be hard for you to hear." I fix my vision on my parent's grasped hands, just like I stared at Granger's clock when I told her my story. I take another deep breath and begin.

"When Pansy revealed my sexuality in front of Voldemort, I was ashamed and afraid of what you would say. I hid in my room. It was because of this, that certain events happened. You didn't talk to me for four days and you only did on the fifth because the house elves found me look in the closet and bleeding. I guess you are at fault too, for if you had enough courage to talk to me none of this would have happened the way it did. Though Granger has made me realize it is not my fault, I still can help but blame myself for what happened."

I pause for another minute before looking at Granger who nods encouraging at me. "Bellatrix raped me five days after the meeting with the Dark Lord."

My parents tighten their grips on each other's hands as I continue on, knowing that it's all about to come pouring out again and that these people will be the most difficult people to tell.

"I won't go in to detail, I will just say she cast a few spells and had her way with me. After she left, after taunting me about how you both knew what she was doing and agreed to it, I locked myself in the closet and attacked myself with my wand. I felt disgusting, pathetic, alone, and above all I just wanted to die. I was sick of the torture I had been subjected to all of my life and I was ready to end it. The house elves didn't let me though. They called your attention to me for the first time in days and I remember going to St. Mungo's and them telling you it looked like someone had attacked me, no one asked me what happened. No one seemed to care enough. So I buried every feeling with meaningless sex and self-mutilation."

I remove my gaze from my parent's firmly grasped hands and focus my eyes at Granger who is smiling a small, sad, encouraging smile. She nods to me as if to say that she is proud.

"I… I don't know what to say, son." My father stutters.

Granger nods again at me as if she can read my mind, or maybe she can see the question written on my face. With her encouragement I find the courage to speak, "Tell me why then, did you scream at me when you found me with that muggle. Are you ashamed to have a gay son?"

My father flinches at the cold tone I use, the harshness of my voice makes me think of Harry and all the time we used to fight in school, and how much we have both changed since then.

"I was _never_ ashamed of you. I do not care about your sexuality. I was brought up to believe that muggles are scum and to see my own son groping what I then believed to be a waste of flesh, filled me with rage. I never meant what I said to you. I am not ashamed that you are gay, I am proud that you have the courage to be something you know not everyone will except. I never would have been able to." My father said in a quiet voice. He stared at his hands before finally he looked up and met my eyes dead on, and I was shocked to see tears in his eyes. I have never seen my father cry.

"I wanted to talk to you about that night ever since it happened but I was too ashamed of _myself_ to bring it up. I am _so sorry_ for all the pain I have caused you. All the times I have failed you as a father. I spent months searching for forgiveness but what I really need is to be forgiven by those around me. I would like to be forgiven by you, son. I understand if you can't even consider it but I hope one day you can, even if it just a small bit." He cried. A tear rolled down my cheek as I sat and watched the strongest man I had ever known cry.

"You _must_ believe us, Draco," My mother spoke now, softly but in a voice that had a desperate plea sound to it. "We were not aware that Bellatrix was doing anything to you, and we most certainly did not want her to! _We love you. I_ love you. You are my son, my child. My pride and joy. The reason to wake up in the morning and to go to bed at night. _You hung the stars in my night, Draco._ You have and always will be the most important thing to me. And nothing you do, _nothing_ will change that." My mother sobbed unashamedly.

"If that _mother fucking cunt_ wasn't already dead, I would fly to wherever she was and torture her to till she begged for death, and then heal her and start all over again." My father snarled through gritted teeth.

"Alas though, she is dead. And I do believe that focusing your energy on being angry at her will not help anyone, no matter how tempting that thought is. And no matter how much we both wish she was still alive, Lucius, just so we can torture her, it will not help Draco any to recover. What he needs now are openly supportive and loving parents." Granger said with an air of confidence that wiped my father's anger completely away. "I know that you both, Lucius and Narcissa, are not people to show affection but I believe for the sake of your son's future and his happiness you might consider changing that, at least around him and each other so that you may all return to the happy family you once were."

"Of course we will, Hermione. I am willing to do anything to help you, Draco. You just have to let me in." My mother says and my father nods his head in agreement.

"I will." I whisper, relieved to hear they love me but terrified to have to rely on them again.

"I am sorry, but Ron will be home soon and I have to go take care of Riley and Elloise. If you wanted to, you two could stay and I could find a nurse to watch over you. I would let you stay here by yourselves but is against the policy." Granger says with a light blush on her cheeks.

"No, it is alright." My father speaks as both he and my mother stand. "We will make our way home."

My father walks over to me as I stand and takes me into a firm hug and whispers in my ear, "I love you, and I will always want you around. Please don't _ever_ try to leave me again." He pulls back and again tears are in his eyes. He kisses my forehead softly, like he used to do when I was a child and when I look back into his eyes his tears are gone but a smile is tugging at his mouth, making his wrinkles show even more.

My mother moves to hug me next and she trembles a bit while she squeezes me tightly. "I love you son."

"I love you too, mum." I whisper in her ear as she lets go and I wipe the tears off of her face. "And I do love you too, dad."

My father smiles at me again, "Well, Narcissa let us make our leave." And together they make their way to the fireplace waving right before grab Floo powder and make their exits. But before my father leaves I hear him whisper. "We have our son back, my love." And in a flash of light he disappears and my mum follows after a bright, watery smile at me.

"Draco, I am so proud of you!" Granger exclaims once she has shut off her Floo connection for the night. "You have made huge progress here tonight. You are coming ever close to getting back in to a regular life. Congratulations!"

I surprise both of us by hugging her and saying, "I would never have been able to do any of that without you. Thank you, Hermione. _Thank you!_"

I let go of her and wish her goodnight before returning to my room to ponder all I have learned tonight. And all I have to look forward to.

* * *

Please Review

_**Always know someone out there loves you and if you feel like committing the big S. Don't. Talk to someone. Somebody will care. **_

_-Laura  
-Attention Deficit._


	14. Dirty King

**May I introduce the long waited for, the horribly late, the work of a terribly sorry writer, the one, the only…..**

**Dirty King**

Last night, I was given the chance to stay in my room. I didn't have to follow the usual rule of eating in the dinning room, nor did I have to spend a certain amount of time in the game room or study. I was left alone to think. And think I did, starting with my parents, their words, their actions, their connections to me, everything I could think of, every memory I could pull up. I thought it all over, and came to the conclusion that they did love me and it seemed impossible that they could have known what was happening.

Then, I thought about Harry and his words, his actions, his emotions, the beauty in him that I believed no one has ever shown him existed. I feel as if I have to get to know him; know him well enough to tell him exactly what he means to me. I don't believe I can do it without getting to know him better. So today I have decided to talk to Harry and learn about him and share with him more about me.

*** * ***

As Harry and I make our way to the game room –which I've never been to until today- I tell him I want to talk to him about something when we arrive. He nods his head and continues to stare at his feet as he walks. I can't help but wonder when the last time his head was lifted up as he walked.

We choose a black leather couch in the secluded left side of the very large game room. I watch him as he stares around the room, as if he was taking in everything that was there with us. Eventually his eyes land on mine, and, yet again, his green eyes dazzle me. They are, like him, beautiful.

"Do you remember that a few days ago you asked why it was always you that was sharing and not me? Well I've thought about it and I think we should both share some of our lives with each other, a chance to get to know each other better. If you would like too…?" I asked hesitantly, afraid of what his response may be.

Harry nodded once with a strange look in his eye, somewhere between fear and admiration.

I tell him parts of my story first. How I didn't feel that Voldemort was right in his ideas and definitely not his methods. I tell him about my misconceptions about my parents, their love for me and that night with Bellatrix. He grasps my hand as I talk about my aunt, and I realize it's becoming easier to talk about her as time goes by. I then tell him about my meeting with my parents last night, and finally my coming out to them in front of every Death Eater. He is almost as pissed at Pansy as I am. Telling him all of this feels normal, like he is my best friend.

It is then time for him to talk and he stares in to my eyes, a soul searching look, penetrating in to my soul to see if I am trustworthy and strong enough. I smile gently back at him, waiting for his words to come and for my turn to comfort him.

Finally, he looks down at his hands and rubs them together as he starts to talk. "Well, you know all about what happened in school, of course. And I guess you know all about the death of my godfather, Sirius, and I'm sure you can fathom how much that affected me. The war in general tore me to pieces inside. I blamed myself for the death of almost every innocent person. If I was quicker at killing Him, faster at finding the horcruxes, better at life in general, so many people would have still been alive today.

"With those thoughts in my head I went looking for any rogue Death Eaters and murdered all of those I found. Except for one that is, but we will get to that later. I ransacked towns, and villages looking for these vile creatures. I had such a hard time keeping my emotions in check when I was near killing one of them that the disappointment of them not dying made my magic burst out in a destructive blast and disintegrate everything around me for about a fifty mile radius. I killed so many innocent people that by the time I had killed almost every Death Eater I had come across I had enough innocent blood on my hands equal to those of the best Death Eaters.

"But I found one Death Eater who convinced me otherwise. Or rather he found me." Harry chuckled lightly as he paused to gather his memories. "Your father found me as I was just traveling in to Germany, following another lead. I was eating a meal at a pub and this man walked in and asked me to forgive him, he bowed in front of me and begged me to forgive him. He cried and cried, begging and begging for forgiveness, and if not to forgive him then at least kill him in the most brutal way I could imagine so that he may feel an inch of what he had caused other people and their families. I stared at him in shock, here before me was the strongest man I had ever seen, cry and beg for death. I eventually realized I was crying for him and asked him to rise off the floor and join me for something to eat. I signaled to the waitress as the entire pub was now watching us, and asked for a menu, two shot glasses and a bottle of their finest firewhiskey.

"Lucius stared at me with awe from his seat on the floor where he had not moved since. I smirked at him, and stood up and reached out to grasp his hand to pull him on the floor. He stare up at me for a long time, continuing to cry as he just stared up at me and with complete defeat he grasped my hand and I helped pull him up. That moment was actually the picture the Daily Prophet had used to describe my life after I had disappeared after the final battle. They didn't say anything about the thousands I had murdered though, just more bull-shit about how I was finding rogue Death Eaters, and if the saviour could forgive, then the rest of the world could try.

"Anyway, Lucius and I talked for hours. He explained to me, that no matter how many people I killed, it would never amount to the number of those he had killed. We talked for half of the night about whether or not we could be forgiven for what we had done, and realized that it didn't matter if others could forgive us, but whether or not we could forgive ourselves.

"We left each other, and I spent the rest of the next two years killing the rest of the Death eaters, this time though, only the Death Eaters died. I then returned back home, where I lived at my Godfather's place. I also got addicted to taking any type of drug, it didn't truly matter which. I overdosed on purpose, but my house elf saved my life. I didn't share with anyone what I had tried to do, I just went on living. I told Granger and Weasley that I was gay and they weren't all that happy for me. Our friendship deteriorated, and I almost jumped off a building, but I was caught by George Weasley right before I pushed myself off. After a year or so of sex with a different man every night and wasting away half of my Godfather's inheritance on drugs, I tried to kill myself for the last time via overdose. I would have too, if my House Elf hadn't called over Granger and Weasley, who then led me to live in this place for the next year." Harry finishes and stares me right in the eye with such a heartbreakingly blank expression on his face.

"How can you talk about so many attempts at death with no emotion?" I whisper.

"If I add emotion to it, it appears more real."

I shake my head and stare at him for a moment. "Where would you go to sleep with all those men? I mean, wouldn't they notice that you are the saviour of the world?"

"I used magic, Draco, to change my appearance. I made myself have blue eyes and longer straighter hair, and of course covered up my scar. Most men didn't even know my name. I was called their 'Dirty King'." Harry says as his eyes change to show their power of seduction and control.

"D-Dirty King?" I stutter.

"Yes, Dirty King. I had the amazing ability to get whoever I wanted. And I was very good in bed, no matter what we were doing." Harry said with a small smirk.

"Eventually, though, the drugs did catch up with me and I was a heartless bastard. Most mornings, I would be the only one still high. Everyone else would be yawning or passed out and I would still be fucking tweaking. Forget past indiscretions and stolen possessions, I was too high to realize anything; except for the grey skies letting in only a small cool breeze. I was probably in the worst place I have ever been. By the time I came sober for more than a few minutes I was so disgusted with myself, I decided to take try and overdose. As I already told you that didn't work." He smiled again, wistfully. His mouth looked more like a broken slit than anything with real emotion.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

"For what?" He said with a raise eye brow.

"The unhappiness is so evident on your face. You keep trying to cover it up with a smile, but the smiles are all haunted. Harry, I hope you will allow yourself to get better, to become happier. And I hope you will allow me to be there for it." I ended in a mutter, half hoping he wouldn't hear me, so I wouldn't have to be rejected again.

He turned his head to stare directly in to my eyes again. We sat like that for what felt like a life time before a true smile lit his face.

"If you would give me the chance, Draco, I would love to be there for you."

I blushed faintly as I felt him move closer to me, as his arms wrapped around my body and finally his lips pressed against mine.

It felt like a new breath was being pushed in to my heart. As if with this kiss he was giving me a reason to live; and maybe he was. Maybe we were both damaged so much that the only way we could ever heal is by helping each other.

He ran his hands up and down my sides. I moved my hands to his head and ran my fingers through his soft and luscious hair. His left hand ran underneath my shirt and brushed against my navel causing me to shiver. He broke away from me and chuckled.

"Ticklish?" He asked with a smile in his eyes. The first smile I'd ever seen that had reached his eyes.

"No." I mumbled, as my cheeks grew warm.

"You're cute when you blush, Draco." Harry smiled. Before I could respond he caught my mouth again with a quick kiss.

"Now don't refuse it. It was a compliment and I don't think you get enough, so here is one more," Harry said as he climbed on to my lap. "You are sexy."

He kissed me forcefully again, and let his hands roam all over my body, slowly taking my shirt off. He rotated his hips so that we were grinding in to each other, and as hard as I tried, I could not keep the moan from coming out. It was then that I remembered that we were in a room with other people.

I pulled away and looked around. Not one person was looking at us. I looked back at Harry to find him smiling again at me.

"I have wards up so no one can see us and what we are about to do." Harry smiled. "I gained a hell of a lot of extra power from Voldemort and I know how to control it now. So don't worry, just let me take care of you." He smirked again and slid of off my lap and on to the floor.

"Let me be your Dirty King." Harry slowly pulled down my pants and then boxers leaving me nude, with him gazing at me with a predator-like glance.

He ran his hands from my knee caps up my thighs and pausing to run his fingers lightly over my inner thigh causing me to squirm and groan.

My eyes shut as his hands moved on to my cock, skimming the head and then the shaft. He grasped it tightly in his hands and stroked it slowly, until it was fully erect and I was trying not to beg for more.

When his lips finally wrapped around the head, my eyes rolled back into my head. The delicious feeling of his hot lips and tantalizing tongue almost made me _come_ undone.

His tongue swirled and flicked itself around the head, as his lips sucked it. Then he decided to move his head up and down on my cock as he continued to suck me. The blessed pressure had me seeing stars as he moved faster, and got in to a rhythm of popping his head and then sucking the head of my cock. Harry released my cock from his mouth with a pop and then started to stroke it lightly as he placed the tip back in his mouth and started to swirl his tongue around it. He moved down in till he was taking only the head and then Harry _sucked _like no other, his hand still stroking my cock. And, after letting out a loud moan, I came.

It was several minutes before I could regain true coherency, and by then my clothing was already back in to place and Harry was sitting next to me on the couch with a dazed smile on his face.

I leaned over and whispered, "Thanks." Before I captured his lips in a gentle kiss, and started to reach over to his cock when I heard a male voice call out, "Hey! Not so close." 

I pulled back surprised and look around to see a guard frowning at us from the doorway. I glanced back down at Harry who smiled sheepishly at me and moved a few centimeters away.

"I lost my control." He whispered.

"I can't wait till we get out of here so I can try and make you feel as amazing as I do right now." I whispered back at him, with a sincere smile.

"Will you wait for me when you get out of here?"

"Wait for you?" 

"You will be out of here before I will, Draco. I still have a lot of things I can't even think of without breaking down. But you want to get out of here, you are smiling a true smile, you're trying with your relationship with your parents. So, will you wait for me?" Harry asked with a sad smile.

"Yes."

"Even if it takes years?" Harry asked starring straight in to my eyes.

"Even if it takes forever." I replied and then moved in to capture his lips in a love filled kiss. And this time, the guard didn't yell at us.

Special Thanks to ANYONE who waited so fucking long to read this, and then rushed on this site to read it. Or those who reviewed, whichever.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU! Enjoy half of your present. I will finish something else and beta it before this Christmas! SCOUTS HONOUR!

P.S. Happy (Whatever) Holiday! That you celebrate if you do not celebrate Christmas, I hope you still get awesome gifts and food.

P.P.S. I LOVE YOU ALL.


	15. Ready To Drop

**Ready to Drop**

Two days passed before I saw Hermione again. Honestly, I was a bit frightened of what she was going to say once she heard about the progression of my relationship with Harry. Luckily though, I didn't have to wait long for her to approach the subject, since after some quick pleasantries she jumped right to it, "So you and Harry are already at the making out phase." It was said more as a statement rather then a question.

I pause for a moment, "Uh... well we... uh... went a bit further." I say blushing.

She lowers her head and stares right at me, expressionless, "How much further?"

"He blew me." I say looking away from her.

She smiles slightly. "Good. Here I thought you would have had actual sex. I am aware, like all the other staff here, that Harry's magic can pass through all the barriers so we know you could."

"I do not want sex in this place with Harry." I say simply.

"Why?"

"I want it to mean something more than getting off." I say blushing again.

Hermione looks me over and tilts her head as she think. "Is this the first time you've wanted sex to mean more, Draco?" She asks quietly.

I stare at her in shock as I think over my past sexual encounters. I nod my head as tears flood my eyes. "Is that... Does that mean I... What exactly am I to do if he doesn't feel the same?" I end in a whisper.

"Oh Draco," Hermione huffs softly, as she smiles. "You don't know exactly how long Harry's been here, do you?"

"He mentioned a year. He said he killed all those rogue Death Eaters, then tried to kill himself a few times and eventually ended up here..." I say as I try to calculate how long that would take.

"He took five years right after the war to get all the Death Eaters, then one year to succumb to his addiction, and another year to swim in his addiction. All three suicides happened in one year. He has been here for almost three years. Two of those years he spent an emotionless shell. He wouldn't do anything without being forced to do it."

I raise my head. "Like an inferi?"

"Yes. I guess that's what you saw when you first arrived here." Hermione said with a small smile. "It's because of you that he's starting to be something more than an inferi. I have never been happier for someone to end up here. I know it sounds horrible but both you and Harry have grown so much from where you both were. I can see that your relationship is something that will last for a very long time. You both compliment each other so well."

I smile at Hermione as she blushes. "Oh no, I've said too much."

"Don't worry about it, Hermione. I won't tell anyone. I mean, what else are friends for but to keep your secrets?" I say, not realizing I had just called her a friend, until the words were out of my mouth. "Err... that is to say... if you _want_ to be my friend. I mean, your friendship with Harry will be restored, maybe not fully, but restored just the same, and then if I am going to be part of his life-like I so desperately hope to be- then it would only make sense if I-"

"Draco," Hermione cut me off. "You're rambling. And I would like very much to be your friend. But to do that you would need to find a new psychiatrist when you get out of here. I would become biased if we had anything more than a professional relationship once you leave."

I thought about this for a moment and something didn't make sense to me. Something I should have thought of before. "Hermione, why am I your patient? Isn't against policy, since we have a history together?"

Hermione smiles a sad smile. "I wondered when you would ask this question. I am a little surprised it hasn't come up before, but I am happy that I've had the time with you, and for you to trust me so my answer doesn't hurt you."

"Why would your answer hurt me?" I ask warily.

"When Harry first came here, everyone was terrified to work with him. No one really knew what he had been doing the years prior, and no one wanted to get in to his thoughts out of complete terror of what he might have to say. We used to let the psychiatrists use _Legilimens_ to get into the patients minds until I noticed it was only making things worse."

"You noticed?" I interrupt.

"I own this building, Draco, I own this hospital. It is my job to know who all of my patients are doing. Even if I have a history with them." Hermione says plainly.

I stare at her. "If you own this hospital wouldn't you have more important things to do then be a therapist for patients?"

"Being a therapist is important to me, Draco. But, if you let me continue I will tell you why you are one of the special cases."

"Please continue." I say with a nod.

"No psychiatrist wanted to be a part of Harry's recovery. Not because they didn't want to help, in fact, everyone wanted desperately to help. But they didn't want to be scarred from doing so. I am sure you are aware that jumping into someone else's memories can damage you in some way."

I nod, completely enraptured and terrified, wondering what this could possibly have to do with me.

"Well, no person wanted to relive the horror that the _Hero _suffered. Luckily though, it was around that time when I was studying the use of _Legilimens_ and found it harmful, since the patients didn't trust the psychiatrists after it. So no one dived in to his head but we had to call in a very special psychiatrist to help Harry. Doctor Sykes is from Ireland, he was my mentor, and had retired, but sometimes patients just need someone who understands. Doctor Sykes fought in the first war against Voldemort and the war against Grindelwald, so he knew firsthand what a war can do to someone.

"By this point, I'm sure you're wondering what the hell this has to do with you?" Hermione says with a smile.

"Sometimes, it's weird how well you know me. Not something I'm used to." I say with a grin.

"Well get used to it, 'cause I don't plan on leaving your life anytime soon." Hermione counters, with a small blush gracing her features. "Seriously though, as tough as it was to find someone suitable for Harry, it was harder for you. Most people had heard a little bit about the horror Harry faced, but no one had heard what it was like to be the child of a Death Eater and to be forced in to the job, because his or her parents' lives were at stake. Psychiatrists were terrified to deal with Harry, but they were mortified to give you the help you needed. I actually had a very strong man break down in tears begging me not to let him be the one. He told me flat out that he knew you would forever change whoever helped you, and that he believed that that change could seriously hinder him so badly that he would never be able to help another person again." Hermione frowned and looked me straight in the eye.

"I never wanted anyone to be scared of you. All I could see when I first saw you lying in that hospital bed was the wounded young man I punched in the face after calling him a 'foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach.'" Hermione said as a tear rain from her eye. "I knew then that no matter how far we searched no one would want to help you. No would be able to. Even if they _could_ look past the Dark Mark, they would be too terrified to see the beautiful young man underneath. The beauty I was able to see after I took a very long look at you, as you laid in the hospital bed. You were peaceful, yet still so haunted. But the greatness in you was just lying under the surface, though untouched and not properly nourished, as it should have been, but still there. I knew I would be the only one willing to help you, I knew the risks. Hell, with each patient there is a risk but I knew with you they would be greater."

Hermione stopped and let a few more tears fall before she gently brushed them away with a conjured up tissue.

"I talked it over with Ron, and he told me simply that we both knew I would never forgive myself if someone else took your case and you killed yourself later in life. I came back to the hospital the next day and told them that no matter what anyone or any rule said, I would be your psychiatrist. The hospital wasn't all that happy about it, but no one else could be found to do it.

"And now you've been here for nine months and I feel like you know just as much about me as I do about you. Another regulation we have broken. Honestly though, Draco, I would break every regulation to be the person to help you." Hermione said with a watery smile, and I cannot stop myself from walking over to her chair and giving her a hug.

"I don't think I could ever have come this far without you Hermione." I whisper into her ear, as tears fill my own eyes. "You've not only helped me see that life isn't all bad, you've also turned me in to a sap!" I say as I pull away, laughing as the tears escape.

"My days aren't ever going to be the same now." Hermione says as she finishes wiping away all trace of tears.

"How so?" I say as I also wipe away the tears.

"This is the last meeting we will need to have, Draco. You are free to leave." Hermione says with a small smile.

"Wh...What?" I stutter out in shock.

"You have covered every step necessary to leave. You are not the same man you were when you first arrived. And as long as you sign a contract saying you will get help if you ever feel like you are slipping back to your old ways, then you don't have to be here for much longer." She says with a sad smile. "Of course, it _is_ Ministry mandate that you have to continue getting psychiatric help once you leave until a psychiatrists deems you no longer in need to see anyone anymore. And I have some last advice if you would like to hear it."

I slump in my chair as I take in all the information. Free to leave, I'm free to control myself now. It is liberating, and terrifying at the same time.

"I will hear anything you have to say, Hermione." I say as I start to get over my shock.

"I want you to move out of the Malfoy Manor. Sometimes bad memories should be faced, and sometimes you just shouldn't have to deal with them every day. You need to find a fresh start, somewhere where you can be independent and still have people who care about you. I also want you to take things slow with your relationship with Harry. You both are stubborn and head strong, and you will have loads of fights, but be patient. You are good together. Give him space when he needs it, and don't let him shut you out. In return though, don't shut him out.

"You are a beautiful person, Draco. You need to let others see your inner beauty. Be happy and enjoy what's before you. Don't forget others love you." Hermione says all this with a huge smile. "You have locked yourself in your castle for too long, are you finally ready to come out?"

I smile at her and nod. I think I'm ready. I really think I am.

* * *

To those who love this story, there is now a one-shot to it from my beautiful beta. It is called **Poke Wars**, it is amazingly fluffy and beautifully fits right in between this chapter and chapter 14. Read it! **http:// .net/s/ 5858305/1/Poke_War** Minus the spaces.

Thanks to all of you who bothered to read, and those of you who reviewed. A lot of you help this, and other stories, progress.

As usual, you are not alone if you are feeling depressed or suicidal, and their is always someone who loves you. Getting help is not weak, it is smart, so is crying. Yup found that one out in the past two months. Broken hearts will heal, scars on skin will fade, you are amazing and gorgeous. I love you. I know I'm strange 'cause I love everyone, but at least we have something in common: we love Drarry!

-Attention Deficit

-Laura

_**P.S. Who's ready for Harry's thoughts!?**_


	16. Spinal Cord Collapsible

**Spinal Cord Collapsible**

_Spinal Cord_ – A part of the central nervous system that carries information from the body, upwards to the brain, such as touch, skin temperature, pain and joint position and carries information from the brain downwards to initiate movement and control body functions.

_Collapsible_ - To break down suddenly in strength or health and thereby cease to function.

You've been warned.

Freedom… is a long ways away.

When you have come as far as I… you still have a long way to go.

No bright light is visible at the end of my metaphoric tunnel. Not yet anyway, there is too much distance to cover before their ever will be. Of course, if I turn around, look at the opposite direction, it is filled with bright lights. Sweet lights, warming and gentle, with a scent and taste sweeter than anything ever to lie on my tongue, like raspberry ice cream, vanilla, the ocean and grass. It sounds gross but together they call me, "Harry… Harry… You know you want this, this freedom, this absolution."

And I do.

I want it more than anything else, but I'm going to stay strong. I'm going to keep going towards the eventual bright lights because I know what is truly calling towards me at the opposite end; a monster, an addiction of the most horrible kind. Magical Meth, the wizarding world's worst enemy, waits for me and calls for me at the opposite end of my tunnel. It was the drug of choice right after the war, and it was my drug of choice for years. Now though, I'm getting over it.

Good for me, right? Congratulations and all that crap. You're like millions of other people who have gotten over an addiction. And you could be like the millions of people who will go back to the addiction once life gets tough again.

Hey, I might be getting over my addiction but I'm still a cynical person. I know that the stocks are against me, though I do have a small amount of hope that I may be able to get away from this monster alive though, maybe.

Maybe I will, maybe I won't. My life is filled with maybes. Maybe I'll survive, maybe I won't. Maybe I'll be charged for all the blood on my hands, maybe I won't. Maybe they'll forgive me, maybe they won't. Maybe I'll fall in love, maybe I won't. Maybe there was never any hope for me, maybe there is. Maybe I'm destined to die alone… again.

Most days I just want to die but certain people won't let me even try. I have this need to save people from any type of pain, since so much has been inflected on me. Therefore, killing myself would cause them pain, which I don't want. It took my twenty-seven years to admit I have a saving people thing.

But I spent three years with a killing people thing. I wiped out Death Eaters who were not sorry for what they had done. In the mean time though, my magical power was shrouding me and I lost control of it when my emotions got in the way, in other words, when a Death Eater got away. I've wiped out entire villages of people all in the quest for the blood of a few men.

My therapist, Dr. Sykes is trying to help me to lose some of the rage I hold. He tries to get me to work through the anger and see a good side to life. Of course, this also includes stopping me from destroying his office when I can't control my magic or emotions. The good things in life though are fleeting when you have been in a psychiatric hospital for the past three years. Luckily though, I've met a man here who used to be an enemy but has become a friend and a lover. Don't read that wrong, he isn't a fuck buddy. Hell, we haven't even had sex yet. I need someone in my life to be more than someone like that, I need a true friend, someone to trust and tell my secrets too. I need more than just sex. I've had too many relationships like that.

Not only that, but if a relationship is not about sex than, for me, it's based on lies. The best relationship I've ever had was based on lies. Lies from him and lies from me. He lied about not cheating on me, with a wide variety of people, and I lied about my magical ability and what I really did when I went on my long business trips. He was in it only for sex and a comfortable place to live. I was in it for a reason to live.

This time though it's not like that. I am not living for Draco. I am living for myself. Some days that isn't true, some days I am living for him, but those days are becoming fewer in number. Draco is helping me find the positive things in my life, not helping me to only survive, but to live. We are not each other's crutches in this place; we each have a hold on the end of a rope as we travel through our tunnels. This rope isn't tied around us; it's not frayed or knotted. It's one that feels to be firm, with lots of slack so that we may slide away from each other and come closer if we need too.

Don't get me wrong, I'm terrified at the very thought of being with him. He's been where I have, he can tell the signs of a relapse. He's seen an addiction to pain, and it looks similar to one of drugs. I can't just push him away without a reason. Even if I did have a reason, I fear he wouldn't leave. Dr. Sykes assured me that this is the type of person I need, one who knows what my worst is like, and how to give me exactly what I need; a man to do more than comfort me, but to mourn the loss of my addiction with me. A man who will help me through the times when I acquire magical meth. A man to sit there with me and be ready to do it too. A man that will know that this is what I need. A man that is walking through the common room doors right now.

"What's with the confused look?" He asks in his quiet voice, a voice that draws attention without demanding it.

"I was just thinking." I answer simply.

"About?" He pries. Another reason to love him, he will not let me fade away.

"You. Me. Us." I say, as my eyes scan the common room.

"Good things, I hope." He says as he sits down and captures my attention. _Don't let me fade away._

"Of course, Draco, you are a good thing." I say with a smile. His cheeks give off a faint blush. "Will you ever accept a compliment?"

"You'll just have to stick around to find out." He says with a grin.

I sigh and lean my head on his shoulder. Its small words like this that have made me want to become a better person.

"Though about going somewhere…" Draco starts to say, his sultry voice filled with angst and discomfort.

"Yes?" I say, imagining the worst. This is where he tells me I'm just too screwed up to be his lover, or even his friend. This is where he says he needs someone normal, someone stable. This is the end.

"Hermione has given me the freedom to leave now. With a few rules of course, but I'm allowed to leave." He looks away from me, and I don't know what hurts more: the fact that he's leaving, or the fact that he's on better terms with Hermione than I am.

"Since when has it been Hermione?" I asked quietly, the hurt breaking through my voice. Damn hospital is making me go soft.

He looks me in the eye and smiles his perfect smile. "I like to call the people who save my life by their first name, even if I didn't like them prior to the fact."

I can't believe how tightly he has me wrapped around his finger. With a smile and a few well chosen words he has me wanting to get out of this place just to see him more often. I can't believe I have a school girl's crush. I'm twenty-eight years old and have fallen so madly in love with this git…this git, who's leaving.

"Is this the… is this the end… of us?" I ask with a blank face, a mask.

"Of course not, Harry." He whispers gently. But I don't believe him; I can't let myself believe him. I don't want to be let down again.

"Now stop doing that." Draco says with a sad smile playing at his lips. "When we were in school, I used to love how easily I could read you. Don't put on a mask, I love the emotions that scatter across your face."

"But, this is the end." I whisper, sounding way too weak. "You're all better, and I'm nowhere near it. You'll leave here and find someone normal, someone sane." _I'm so bloody weak._

Draco holds my gaze and won't let it go. "I don't know what to say to that, Harry." He shatters the silence with a whisper. "Not because I plan on leaving you the first chance I get, but because I know you're not going to believe what I have to say. I could tell you that you are a bloody fool, and you somehow don't see what I see in you. I could tell you that I care too much and too deeply about you to just leave now. But I won't, instead I'll just show you."

I inched closer to him, thinking uncertainly that I may not be ready to have sex with him yet. But he just smiled and quickly kissed my lips.

"What I mean is, every spare second I have, I'll be coming to see you, and bring you whatever you would like, like raspberry ice cream. And, on the day of your release, I'll be standing here waiting to take you home." Draco said as a true smile lit up his face making him the most beautiful man alive.

I pressed my lips against his before the smile could fall, and wrapped my arms around him. He kissed back, gently demanding more. I break away and lead him over to the couch, so I could throw up the shield; you never know how far we might go.

Draco blinks a few times in disorientation. "If you have so much power that I can feel it when you cast it, why didn't you just use it to off yourself when you first arrived? I would have."

"I would have too," I say remorsefully. "I didn't know it when I first got here. I retreated into myself, and let everything pass by. That is until some asshole came along, and sat at my table and talked about dog food."

Draco cheeks acquired a faint pink. "Well, I'm glad you didn't die, or realize you could."

"Me too, it wasn't until a certain therapy session after a certain person made me promise to tell my story to someone, when I found out just how badly I could mess everything up with my magic." I say as I lay my face on his shoulder.

"Will you wait for me?" I whisper, almost inaudibly. "No matter how long it takes? Will you wait for me, even if it takes years?"

The second I have to wait sends sharp pains to my freshly melted heart. What will I do if he says no?

"Harry, even if I have to wait until we're fifty, I'll still show up. I want to know everything about you, good, bad, and horrible." Draco murmurs in my ear as he strokes my hair.

I launch myself back on to his lips, in relief. I have someone to show up, someone to care, someone that is mine.

My hands roam happily across his clothed chest. This feels like freedom.

His lips are supple and pink. They are so unlike mine, plump where mine are flat. It feels almost like kissing a pillow, with how perfect they are, how beautifully they mold around mine.

With a mental check on the shield I lift his shirt and let my hands roam across his nipples, making them peak in their pale pink glory. My hands roam lower to the scars the mar the perfect skin under my guilty hands…

The scars…

The scars… Pale lines, raised skin, constant reminders of my guilt. Guilty, your fault, _Sectumsempra! _Snape. _'I didn't know what the spell did, I didn't know…'_

"…Harry?" His voice calls me from a distant place, a voice belonging to the body, the body I have harmed beyond repair. "Harry, are you alright? Harry?"

I shut down.

This is my fault. My entire fault, I'm guilty, so many dead, so many! I deserve to be in Azkaban. No, I deserve worse. I deserve death, a limbo where I'll pray for death, a death that won't come. I deserve to suffer for everything, anything. I am the reason the world fell to hell. I am the reason.

_I AM!_

_I DID IT! _

_I KILLED YOU ALL!_

_I AM, I AM, I AM…_

A white light, so bright, so pure, emanates from me, a strong, blinding, burning light. Goodbye goodness, goodbye Draco, I am no more.

…will you join me too?

* * *

Read, Reveiw, Talk to someone if you need help.

Somebody loves you.

-Laura

-Attention Deficit


	17. Cannonball

Cannonball

He was waiting again. It felt like he was always waiting, and what could be more fitting than waiting in a waiting room? At least this time he knew what to expect. The time before he sat here rigid, and just stared as people past, hoping somebody, anybody, would tell him what happened to his friend, his co-worker, his life.

The desperation had been huge then, a factor that made him questions his own sanity and motives. It wasn't until he himself went for some psychiatric help, at his wife's persistence, that he started to get better. It was in this therapy that he realized three things:

He didn't cause it.  
He can't control it.  
He can't cure it.

The depression and acts of suicide brought on by the circumstances in the two men's lives had nothing to do with him. All he can do now is be there for them, support them; even if he doesn't agree with their choices, he should still be in their lives.

The fact that he is thinking of both of their lives instead of just one is barely registered by him. Who cares if your best friend dates or marries your old worst enemy as long as he's happy? After all the shit Harry has been through, what gives him, Ron, the right to make a stink over his choice of partner? Is it harmful? Or deranged? No. It's just love.

Harry could marry a giraffe for all he cared, as long as he smiled, as long as he _lived_.

His therapist assured him that that was what love was, accepting no matter what; as long as no damage was done to the love one. A concept Ron had only known with his wife.

The more he talked about his relationship with Harry the more he realized that they truly were best mates. After all the horror they had been through together, they still belonged together. Their bonding was a true friendship, something rare indeed.

And in the act of true friendship Ron was waiting outside of Harry's boyfriend's room, waiting for news. The waiting was quicker and soon he was being ushered in to the room to see a dazed Draco Malfoy look at him in confusion.

"Weasley?" He asked bemused.

"Draco. How are you feeling?" Ron asked timidly.

"I'm medicated. How are you?" Draco asked as smarmily as ever.

"Do you remember what happened?" Ron asked carefully.

Draco paused and peered around the room. "Harry… Panic….White… That's it." He said in an uncertain tone.

"Well, whatever happened between you and Harry made him panic so badly that his magic exploded inside him, and pushed outwards. Luckily the guards and wards stopped the magic from getting more than ten feet away from Harry. Unfortunately, that means it hit you. But of course, Aspen is used to this type of thing and quickly got you both to St. Mungo's, which is where you are now." Ron stated simply.

"…and Harry? Is he—, "Draco got cut off.

"He's fine. They got him here quick enough. His magic might be a bit of whack for a while as it fixes itself, though." Ron answered softly.

"How long… how long before it fixes itself?" Draco asked unsurely.

"It will be… It will fix…" Ron stuttered as he tried to find the words. "…He will never have complete control… He will… He is…" And with that Ron broke down.

Tears ran down his face as he sank down the wall, holding his head. The world felt like it spun as he tried to grasp the changes he would have to make.

"Weasley?" A quiet voice called out before him, as a hand was laid on his shoulder. "Weas… Ron? Ron, it's going to be okay. We can help him together. We'll be there for him. We- I won't let him succumb to himself. I won't let him die."

A sob broke free from Ron's throat as he locked his arms around Draco's neck. Draco barely hesitated before he too wrapped his arms around Ron, and he held him there.

"He needs you, Draco. He needs you…" Ron chocked out through his tears. "…I need you…"

"He needs you too." Draco whispered.

Ron took a few deep breaths, and then led Draco back to his bed, bringing up a chair and sitting down. He brushed the tear tracks off of his face and sighed heavily.

"When… when I found you-"

"You found me?" Draco interrupted confused.

"Yes, back when you tried to… kill yourself in your office, I was down the hall. I heard you fall. I got you help. I… I saved you that time. But you, you saved me from the sorrow that was eating away at every aspect of my life, my soul."

Draco gave a soft grunt of disbelief.

"Don't do that, Draco. I know you don't see it this way, but you did save me. And then you saved Harry. And… just… you did what I have wanted to do for eleven years in the span of a few short months. You did what I wanted to do, but was too scared to try. You risked your heart and I broke down at the thought of it. He was… is my best mate, and I couldn't even try to help him in fear of losing myself. And then you go, and try to… try to die in front of me and I… I realize I already lost myself long before he tried to kill himself that third time." Ron chocked out in broken sounds.

"So listen to me when I apologize for the torture I put you through in school, in the past eight months, and in the future. I see the love and care you have for him. I see past your mask, and though it scares me a little, I know he will be okay with you. You will be strong enough to live and love him. You will be the better man. And maybe it isn't healthy to rely on love so much to get you through your differences but it's what I am going to do. It's what I need to do." Ron broke off there and slumped in to his seat, staring at the ceiling.

"Ron I… I don't know what to say…" Draco whispered. "This doesn't mean we have to be friends, does it?"

Ron smiled at Draco's weak attempt of a joke. "No, we don't have too."

The pair sat in silence for a few minutes as the weight and expectations of their roles washed over them.

Draco sighed heavily and slowly sung out his hand. "I'm going to need you too. There will be times when Harry will hate that I'm a perfectionist or that I'm a control freak or that I'm selfish, and he will run. Hopefully, he'll run to you. And then I need you to convince him that I am worth it, as your wife convinces me he is worth it. I will… I want to be your friend." Draco blushed, a dull shade of pink painting his cheeks.

Ron's face lit up in a huge grin as he took Draco's hand and shook it enthusiastically. "I'll try my best, mate."

_Stones taught me to fly  
Love taught me to lie  
Life taught me to die  
So it's not hard to fall  
When you float like a cannonball_

-Damien Rice

Up next the Epilogue, or prelude depending on what you think.

Don't try the suicide, get help first. Somebody loves you. Somebody understands; somebody in this great big world knows the hell you are going through. Somebody wants to help you.

-Laura

-Attention Deficit


End file.
